


An Assault of Starlight

by Halcy (halcyonweekend)



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Mob
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonweekend/pseuds/Halcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Masamune helps himself to a simple treat and a simple job, he gets a little more than he bargains for, and a lot more than he'd ever care to witness. Being thrust into the criminal underworld is never easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Spark

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been an idea that's been rolling around my head for months, and it's essentially me having fun with Kojuro and Masamune, sorta flipping roles, and sorta exploring Kojuro's Yakuza side. Sorry for any and all mistakes! I haven't written in ages, enjoy. uwu

Wads of bills burned the serial codes into his skin as he ducked into a nearby alleyway. Shouts were coming from down the block. The pounding of his heart just barely beat out the traffic racing down the avenue. Masamune could feel the blood continue to pool and pour between gaps in his teeth, the metal taste slithering down his tongue. He darted deeper into the alley. Chain-link fences covered most exits, and a dead-end covered the last.

Curses echoed, a path of slurs pushing him further and further away from the easy targets. Shoving the hundreds down his pants, he hopped up, just barely getting a foothold between the links. Footsteps pounded down the pavement. His pants tore as he tried vaulting over the barbed wire. Limbs tangled, and his descent was not a smooth one. Sharp pains made a soft landing much harder. As he hit the ground, the blood dripping to his stomach sloshed around, and each step forward seared him from the inside. He was so close to home.

Just barely ignoring the pain, he hobbled towards another alley maze, throwing himself to the closest, darkest parts, and sliding down a brick wall. His breath was ragged, and he left too much evidence for a clean escape. He was so goddamn close. All he had to do was snatch and run, and he couldn’t even do that properly, not with these brutes on his heels.

He hoped they were too dumb to notice and catch up, yet when he looked past the knocked over trash can he managed to hide behind, he saw a single silhouette growing larger and darker, a body striding in his direction. Knocking his head gently against the wall, he let out a harsh exhale. Blood was pooling on his shirt, blood soaked through his socks, he looked like a crime scene, and he was sure that’s where he’d end up if he couldn’t get past even one guy.

Ripping off a strip of denim, he wrapped it around his leg tight, the closest thing he had to a bandage at the moment. Dirty nails scraped against the stone as Masamune worked to get himself on his two feet. The shadow seemed unphased, no less fast or slow in its arrival. Spitting away bits of teeth and blood, he put his fists up, fresh cuts bleeding into others. Once he regained his balance, he rushed to the mystery man, holding back a scream and swinging to incapacitate.

Or so he hoped.

The shadow darted in and out of sight, and before he knew it, his arm was twisted painfully around his back, and with a kick, he was down on his knees.

“Son of a bitch!” He spit, craning his neck back into the shadows.

“Amateur.” Behind him, he heard the click of a lighter. “Oyabun was never a fan of freelancers...” He heard a long inhale, before his captor leant forward and blew smoke on the back of his neck. “Hand over your haul, and crawl back into your hole.”

“Fuck you.” Masamune snorted a bit before hocking a wad of snot into what he hoped was the other’s face. He smiled as he heard it smack against the other’s cheek.

Still the man was unphased. “They always want it the hard way...” He sighed before violently shoving his hand down Masamune’s torn jeans, ripping the wad of bills out, along with a few coarse strands. Letting his arm go, he gave Masamune the freedom to keel over, clutching onto himself. “Piece of shit...!” He gritted out, noticing that there were still bills caught between his legs.

The man counted the bills once, twice, then three times to make sure, noticing the first tug hadn’t gotten everything. “Do you want me to go again?”

He rolled, hands still between his sides, and shoved whatever remained into a free pocket. He got back up on shaky legs to face him. “I-I didn’t see you with the others...who are you?! If you wanted the money you should have just said so!”

“You ask too many questions. Who I am is not your concern. Whether or not I leave you alive or not, is.”

“And if the police find me?!” His fists were back up, his bruised ego aching more than the dull thud in his leg.

“The police aren’t your friends. Or did you forget, freelancer?” As he stepped into the light, Masamune could see a scar, like a claw mark, adorning a strong jaw. The man pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the drying blood, shaking a gloved hand when he was done.

“Why do you keep fucking calling me that?” Those were the words that caused him to freeze.

“...Who are you?”

“I asked you first!” He brought a fist up and went to swing before a ring echoed through the alleyway. He flinched and froze, biting his lip, and cracking an eye open to look around.

Snorting, the other man pulled out a simple flip phone, opening it with unneeded flair and bringing it to his ear. “I’m busy...yes I’m aware….” He tapped his foot impatiently, the look of impatience softening his features. “Take that up with the other children not me-- what?” He turned to look at Masamune with narrowed eyes. “Only one...yeah, why don’t I ask him then?...No I’m not going to fucking ask him.” The man snarled, his nostrils flaring, a flash of anger before he quickly composed himself. “By whose orders do I...I see.” His harsh, yet playful tone turned on its heel. “I’m sorry for taking up your time. He’ll be there shortly.”

He clapped the phone shut. He let out another sigh. “Can’t say if you got off lucky or not yet.” He tossed the neatened pile of bills at him, all rubber-banded. “Stuff whatever’s left in there.”

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?”

“I don’t see anyone laughing.” He gave a smirk and brushed himself off. “Surprise, looks like you’re taking a trip to see someone very important.”

“One minute you’re trying to kill me and the next you’re kidnapping me?” Sweat, dirt, and dried blood matted down his hair and left his patch askew.

“If this was a kidnapping, you would have tried to run away ages ago. So why are you still here? It’s not fear, it’s not even your injuries. You’re curious. Can’t say I blame you, I’m just as curious myself.” He lit another cigarette, the other falling in a puddle during their ‘tussle’. “You’ve caught the ‘eye’,” He pointed at his own right eye. “of some very important and powerful people.”

“What if I don’t want to go? Huh? Thought about that?” Masamune limped backwards, turning around to move to a full jog, and then his body became tense and stiff, it jerked of its own volition, lights flashed an endless number of colors, and then it all disappeared.


	2. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Face to face with one more pulling the strings from behind the scenes, Masamune realizes he's already in too deep.

It hurt so much. He wanted to move. It was dark. It felt like cotton was stuffed in his ears. He heard voices. God, it hurt so much. He heard them speak. Was it about him? He couldn’t tell. Was it day or night? Was he dead? He couldn’t move.

“....yes.”

“How much was he holding?”

“(...) hundred or so.”

“That was the amount (...) was missing, looks like you were right.”

“When am I not?”

“Watch the tone. Go check if he’s ready to cooperate. ”

He recognized one of the voices, as distorted as it was. No idea who the second one was, but he seemed to be a higher-up.

He heard creaking as light flooded from behind. He couldn’t help but shut his eye, the darkness upping its sensitivity His body tensed with each heavy footstep against the floor. It sounded less like a man was approaching him and more a monster. With a rough pull forcing him onto his back, he wasn’t too far off. Slicked back hair, a deep scar on the right cheek, dark narrowed eyes with the void for bags under his eyes, stubble just beginning to grow out, and breath like….leeks.

“D-don’t fucking touch me…!” Masamune stuttered out, his body still stiff and unresponsive.

“Get up.” He tapped his cheek with the back of his hand. “Today’s your lucky day. Boss wants to see you.”

“Well you can tell him to fuck off--” He was cut off as the pads of the other’s fingers mushed his cheeks together, pressing painfully against teeth.

“Bravado didn’t do you any favors last time, so how ‘bout you cut the shit, alright? Let’s make this a lot smoother, for the both of us.” He let him go, rising to his feet.

A few seconds passed in silence, as Masamune just lay there, his eye tightly shut and his body quickly beginning to feel again, both movement and even more stiffness. Pressure came from nowhere, and suddenly the air was cut off. Boot treads were digging into his Adam’s apple, his body wriggling, yet it only served to speed up his pulse and collect blood where it shouldn’t. There was no room for snark, no strength for retaliation, all he could do was choke on whatever drool didn’t leave his mouth, and pray for a quick death.

“Kojuro.” A voice purred from outside, its volume not above anything more than a greeting, yet powerful in its own way. “I’m not a man to be kept waiting.”

Mercy was given in the form of stale air, which Masamune gladly let into his lungs, coughing much of it back. “You piece of shit, I’m gonna--”

“Full of energy, hm?” The voice pierced him harder than the taser managed. Even as only a shadow hidden by distance and the bright light behind him, Masamune felt he was in the presence of something much higher than himself.

The one called Kojuro dusted his jacket off gently, and bowed to the other coming in. “Waka gashira, I was just speaking with Hideyori about our new initiate, I hadn’t realized you’d be coming so soon. ”

With his newfound strength, Masamune craned his neck to look at Kojuro, his eye twitching in anger. Kojuro took a quick glance down, a stern expression becoming even more stoic. There was plenty he wanted to scream about, the mention of ‘initiate’ in particular, but as he heard light footsteps come closer and closer, he deemed it smarter to keep himself shut for once.

“So this is the one that swindled one of our own?”

“Yessir.”

“Has plenty of bark, but I see no bite. Tarnished like old bronze, I see.” He turned to look, hearing the click of lighter. Light and smoke wafted from the shadow. “You there. Get up.”

Suddenly, every excuse that kept him at odds with Kojuro vanished, his body almost moving on its own, unsteadily, to his feet. He could feel the dried blood everywhere, and the tatters in his jeans were doing him no favors with modesty.

"State your name." The voice was calm, but that from which it came from was not.

The words left him before his mind could react. "Date Masamune...sir."

"Masamune...and what of this?" He pointed to his right eye, gesturing to Masamune's own. "Did Kojuro have a bit of fun before he arrived?" His brows seemed perpetually knit in annoyance, the only colors that seemed to exist in his repertoire were black and white.

He clutched his obscured eye before quickly pushing back his hair, one fluid gesture. A bit of energy came back, and he felt like playing to an audience again. "Nah, knife fight when I was real young. He got my eye, but I got the bastard real good in the lungs..." He gestured with a stabbing motion towards Kojuro. The other was not amused.

Gloved fingers tapped on crossed arms. "A terrible liar. His value continues to plummet. I was expecting a treasure, not a scrap of trash." Those words were directed at Kojuro more so than him. Even as the bile rose in his throat, all he could do was stand and bite his tongue. An involuntary hiss managed to slip out though. It was largely ignored.

Raising his hand, he reached towards Masamune, and flipped up the eyepatch. His touch made him flinch. "Illness took your sight, and a bit of your mind it seems." He guided a gloved hand down old scars and deformed tissue, before flipping it back down. Smoke billowed and clouded Masamune's sight as the other man exhaled.

"I can assure you he's worth his weight. Being able to not only steal from, but successfully evade our men? He would have possibly evaded me," Kojuro couldn't help but snort at his own idea. "if he wasn't so terribly stubborn. He sustained injuries during his escape, and somehow he managed to soldier on, even tried to outmatch me in some standard combat. Dimwitted, yes....a terrible liar, well, there's ways to work on that--"

His boss seemed to have a penchant for interrupting. "Oyabun places infinite trust in you, for reasons beyond even my vast understanding. He also expects this one to be of immense use. Whether that comes to fruition has yet to be seen, but....everything becomes more valuable with age. Restore his finish, show me this diamond in the rough. I'm counting on you." Kojuro's boss turned quickly on his heel, heavy boots gliding along the floor, and with each step widening the distance, also stamping out Masamune's hopes of freedom.

Silence stretched from a moment to much longer, Masamune still in complete disbelief, and Kojuro gathering his thoughts.

When he looked down to see the bloodied tatters of his jeans, he snorted again. "Looks like your day keeps getting luckier kid, new job, new family, new clothes, and all you have to do is obey." As he turned his head to look at him, he just barely missed a swing for his jaw.

Masamune had no words for him, not even a curse. All he did was scream, and scream, and scream, throwing punches blindly, flailing bruised arms, missing every swing with another scream. He was too slow, and too weak. He was going to die, he was going to die, and it was all because he wanted more. Of all the marks he swiped from, today was the day that Karma decided they had enough. He was selfish, and he screamed and screamed until he couldn't anymore.

Kojuro held his wrists, watching the other jerk and yell and sob and shriek, choking on his own spit and being blinded further by his tears. It was an absolutely pathetic display, and the first he had ever seen. Before he knew it, wounds that had only healed managed to reopen in his hysterics. Blood dripped down dirtied skin, soaking into socks, with just the faintest of flecks staining the wood.

"I'm starting to wonder what the boss sees in you. I mean I lied for you, and that got me nothing. Just a baby crying for his mom." Despite the maudlin display, he wasn't entirely convinced of his own assertion. Even in their initial meeting, there was clearly something there, the energy, the indignation, the gall this boy had. It couldn't have been just a smokescreen.

As Masamune finally surrendered in exhaustion, Kojuro pulled him up, using Masamune using his arm as a crutch. "Let's pray for some sedatives, shall we? ...A shower couldn't hurt either." He snorted before leading the way. 

Masamune offered little resistance as he was dragged to their in-house medical bay. Lanterns lit their way through traditional Japanese styled rooms and hallways, the younger one no longer caring whether this was all real or of his own delusion. People sped towards and away from him all at once, faces unrecognizable, dark suits blending until it was all a blur. No one seemed to pay any mind. Pain continued to wrack his body, from reopened wounds, to scars long healed. Fresh blood stained his jeans even further, though there was little resembling clothing past his thighs. His feet felt like they were encased in cement. Everything pulsated and burned, all he wanted was it to end.

Reaching the threshold, a gurney burst from the double doors. Young nurses filed out and gently embraced Masamune, leading him to the gurney. He was either very exhausted or finally just gave his silent acceptance to the whole situation. He was ushered back inside the ward, being wheeled into a room, cold, clean, and white. A complete 180 from whatever shit-hole Kojuro left him to rot in.

Nurses came and left like insect swarms, some bringing in IV drips, other bringing machines, and even more bringing tools, masks, devices, and the like. They strapped a mask to his face, and the stale air disappeared almost immediately. A needle pinched through skin and it hurt until the cool liquid began to flow. Everything was happening all at once, but he was finally calm. He was peaceful. He was being dipped in a fresh water spring, while breathing unsullied air.

There was another flash of light, but this time, it didn't hurt. 

Kojuro, despite being busy with a million other things, took a seat outside the door, fiddling with his phone for a bit before tossing it aside. There were text messages, emails, news updates, a constant cycle and stream of information, and he wanted nothing to do with it. If only for tonight. 

There was no reason to keep an eye on the new initiate, even if he was the one that had to drag him all the way here. The doctors and nurses knew exactly what they were doing. What he should have done was get up and take a quick nap. He just sat there. Until the boredom weighed less than the overwhelming need to sleep.

Hours dripped away and when he awoke it was 3 in the morning. People came and left without a second glance, as Kojuro just sat there. Lights shut off all around him, with the exception of a lonely room inside.

He'd be just fine, it wouldn't hurt, not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any and all butchered Japanese, I know people aren't a huge fan of using those titles, but I will start using the English equivalents more and more. Also don't expect a set update schedule, especially with school starting back up. unu


	3. Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deeper he goes, the less he knows. Silver haired maniacs, men who smile and lie, and so much to drink, he can barely lap it up. If this is just the beginning, then what's next?

Harsh lights burned his corneas, even through closed eyes. Beeping of the EKG kept him tossing and turning. The anesthetics were only good for one thing, and that was to keep the pain centered between his temples. Masamune, fed up, tossed the sheets aside. Looking down, through blotted eyes, he saw that his clothing was replaced with a simple hospital gown. As his eyes adjusted to halogen lightning, he saw jagged lines down his legs, staples keeping clean skin taut. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, and tried to remember what had happened.

There were shadows in doorways, hurried stomps down pavements, and an unbearable pressure on his neck….but not much else. Everything else was too muddied to make out, and he was convinced whatever it was, was just a dream. 

A terrible, horrible, hyper-realistic…

“And here I thought you’d never wake up.”

...dream.

Masamune’s eye twitched, but never moved from a spot between his ankles, looking at nothing. There was a silent prayer that he was in a coma dream that, while terrible to endure, would at least be nothing more, but as Kojuro spoke up, he knew that wasn't the case.

“You did quite a number on yourself tryna get away. If I let you leave, you’d be nursing one hell of an infection. And not to mention you’d be….” The all too familiar throat slitting sound Kojuro loved to use.

Speaking felt like glass dancing in his trachea. “So….it actually happened?”

“Sorry to say it, but you’re on our payroll now, especially with the debt you've racked up already.” 

“You dragged me here, you forced me to come with you, but now it’s my fault?” Anger and acid burnt at an already raw throat. He forced up what built in his throat and spat on the tile. “Fuck you, fuck that old man, fuck all of this!”

Kojuro folded his arms, and held back the urge to roll his eyes. “First rule, no tantrums. What the boss says, goes.” With a few brisk steps, he walked over the phlegm, and clasped his hand on the back of his neck. “And what the boss says, is clean up your own messes.” He forced him down, Masamune almost colliding with the discharge head first. His legs were numb, but his arms still had resolve.

Catching himself with the help of wires and tubes that still managed to hold him up, he snapped his head up, meeting Kojuro with a snarl. “Eat shit, old man.”

Quickly, Kojuro pulled up the other’s arms, pressing wrists firmly on Masamune’s back. Tubes snapped off completely, the EKG flat-lining, and IV fluid spilling all over the floor. “You first, kid.”

This time, the slime, mixed with saline, met with his nose, and he shuddered. It had already cooled and it felt even worse when it wasn't stuck in his throat. 

“Fuck you.” He wheezed.

“Clean it up, I don’t have all day.” Kojuro growled.

Though he was still a bit sluggish from his injuries and lying in bed, with a sharp jerk of his body, he tripped Kojuro, who had almost collided with the tile, just barely missing Masamune’s mess. With his wrists free, and the pressure taken off, Masamune rolled until he was able to get back up on his feet. He was a bit unsteady, his legs still healing and a bit numb. As he moved to escape his attacker, he could feel a breeze where it normally wouldn't blow through. Once he figured out how to get out of here, he would make sure to steal some sufficient duds.

Though a slightly embarrassing and a short-lived victory, Masamune couldn't help but savor it with arms raised. “Clean up your own mess, right boss? Well you’re looking at him!”

Kojuro took his time coming to a stand, a strand of hair poking out from his usual slicked back style.

“I plan to.”

Masamune put his fists up, Kojuro pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He wasn't sure what kind of tricks the other was pulling, but as he heard hurried footsteps come closer, he kept his guard up.

“Mr. Katakura, what did I say about hassling the new initiate?” A smooth, crooning voice came from behind the double doors. As the man stepped inside, he sighed at the mess. “You know how Mr. Matsunaga feels about messing with his trinkets...” The man wore a surgeon’s face mask, which was slightly obscured by flowing silver hair.

“He’s in near perfect condition, stuff like this only builds character.” Kojuro took a long drag, not looking at either of them.

“Builds character, and more possible injury...not that I would mind fixing him up some more. Sutures are fun to do….” Masamune snarled, disturbed and confused.

“There a reason you decided to stop by, Tenkai?”

“I /was/ going to check up on our initiate’s condition, but I guess that’s that, hm? Now /I’m/ going to have to clean up your mess while you have fun with waka gashira.” The medic directed his gaze to his patient. “I hope you have a higher pain tolerance than I think you do, because they’re going to put you through the wringer.” Even though with the mask, one could almost see the grin behind it.

“Say goodbye to Mr. Katakura, young Masamune, you won’t be seeing him for quite a while.” The sing-songy tone of voice continued. “Our boss would like a few more words with you...to start with.”

The jovial Tenkai slid over to Masamune, linking their arms together, and tugging him away from his staredown with Kojuro. As they moved past the double doors, he could hear the frustrated clicks from a lighter past its prime.

"...but before you swear fealty, you'll want to get out of that hideous hospital gown, yes?" A rich chuckle flooded the sterile hallways. "Luckily for you, while you were under the knife, Mr. Matsunaga requested some suitable clothing, tailored to your measurements exactly." Masamune could have sworn Tenkai had licked his lips at the thought of surgery, again.

Tenkai lead him through a winding path of similar hallways and thresholds, white blending with white, polished steel melting into polished steel. When Masamune's legs finally gave out, they were just shy of their destination. "Oyabun doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"He can wait for me to catch my breath. Walking with dead legs is a goddamn nightmare." He huffed, and used the wall to slide himself up, until feeling returned to his feet. Through one final threshold, he was greeted with the more familiar areas that Kojuro had led him through only a few days ago. Tenkai sped forward, sliding open a nearby door and gesturing inside.

It was a sparse room. No windows, a single mat on the floor, and a lantern hung up on the far wall. The main draw for them was the rack of clothing by the lantern. Dark clothing, which was no brighter than gunmetal gray, lined the rack. It was a mostly samey array of slacks, dress shirts, jackets, and most importantly, underwear. 

His hand gravitated toward a matching set of navy slacks and a black button up, ignoring the coats completely. His eyes narrowed as they met with Tenkai's, the ever present smile pressing up against the surgeon's mask. "You're among brothers, Masamune. We have no secrets..."

"Get the hell out of here before I strangle you with your wig, you weird fuck." He spat, causing Tenkai only to cover his eyes and turn around. His eyes tried to burn a hole through the back of his head, but he only managed to exhaust himself more.

Sighing, he undid the admittedly itchy gown, and shrugged it off his shoulder. It was then he realized the door was still open. "Haven't you people ever heard of closing a goddamn door?" He pulled on a random pair of boxers and sprinted (or rather limped) to the sliding door. The rest went on surprisingly comfortably, just as a pair of old jeans would.

When he was finally finished, Tenkai pushed him out of the room. "Now you're on your own! Third door on your right is where you'll sit down with our leader. The password is..." He whispered in his ear and harshly slid the door in his face.

As he came up to the directed location, another man with silver hair stepped between him and the door, a sword pointed at his throat. "Initiate!" He barked, his voice hoarse and his eyes red. "Scum like you normally isn't worthy to even breath in Hideyoshi-sama's presence, but since you were requested, I will give you one chance! What is the password?"

Though the blade was sharp, and the wielder's eyes were certainly crazy looking, Masamune only scoffed. "Tch. It's 'absolute power corrupts the weak'. Pretty grandiose for something that doesn't make sense--"

"Silence!" The silver-haired harpy screeched. "Speak ill of Hideyoshi-sama's choices again and I'll gut you like the street vermin you are!" He threatened, though his blade had already returned to its sheath. "You do not speak unless spoken to, and you are to take your seat before him! Bow your head, worm."

"Move aside then, don't I got urgent business with your precious leader?" Masamune didn't even give the other the chance to move, preferring to shove him out of the way.

Inside, he was greeted with a much larger, and garishly ornate room. A large crest was emblazoned on the far wall, the man he guessed was Hideyoshi kneeling before it. The walls were gilded with gold, and several swords decorated where the few suits of armor had not. In the middle of the room, there was a small table, two plates on opposite sides. There were no other men in the room except for himself and Hideyoshi.

Taking a few steps forward, he moved to speak, and hopefully get the other's attention, but before his lips parted, the mountain of a man came to a stand, turning to face him. Masamune bit back his words, a chill down his spine. He did as he was instructed, kneeling before the closest empty plate.

There were no introductions, and barely any words spoken besides his instructions. A man from seemingly nowhere appeared with a porcelain pot in hand. He poured sake into Hideyoshi's plate first, until it overflowed from the edges and pooled around it on the worn wood. Masamune's plate was given just a few drops, so little it could be confused with condensation. He shot a look up at the man, trying to grill him, but he was paid no mind.

Hideyoshi raised the plate to his lips, drinking even as the sake ran down his chin and splashed onto the table. Masamune shrugged and raised his in kind, though drinking the few drops was nigh impossible, short of licking it up. His tongue darted out nervously as he quickly lapped at whatever remained. He shook as he heart the porcelain clatter on the table. Masamune gently placed him down, and another round was served.

This time, however, the plates switched sides. The one that overflowed was now on Masamune's side, and the nearly empty one was on Hideyoshi's side. With both hands and without a second thought, he guzzled down the hot sake, sweat dotting his forehead, his body burning up with the taste. It was invigorating.

"Hey, can I get seconds here, or what?" He called out to the man with the pot, but someone else appeared from the shadows instead, as sour as ever.

"Hold your tongue, initiate. This is not a bar or club. You have sworn fealty to your master! You will show some respect or I will cut you down where you stand--"

Another man appeared right behind him, a hand clasping the angry one's shoulder. "Mitsunari, that's no way to treat your new family. You had once been in the same spot, just as confused and scared as Masamune must be." The voice was warm, as was the smile, but Masamune was unimpressed. "Welcome, brother! It's always nice to see new faces, and to forge new relationships. You've done well so far, but there is quite a bit to go."

"Ieyasu....you've always been too lenient, especially when it comes to disrespect."

"Give it time. He'll come around." 

With a smile, and a rough grab of his arm, Mitsunari and Ieyasu led Masamune out of the tea room, locking the door behind them.

"Now then, you must be exhausted. Wait right here, we'll have you home soon. You need your rest, as your training begins tomorrow!" Ieyasu was already becoming unbearable, so cheery when surrounded by terrible men. Masamune wondered if that's what had always kept Mitsunari on edge. Not that it mattered. 

He hoped when he woke up tomorrow, this would all just be a terrible nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took a while but!! Yay chapter 3! Granted there's not too much going on but it sets the stage. And yay some more stuff'll be coming up hopefully soon.


	4. Cold Hard Realit¥

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a strange initiation, there'll be no rest for Masamune. With two new associates, Masamune'll learn what it means to be on both sides of the Hideyoshi. The difference between them and the rest: cold, hard, cash.

The birds had only just begun to chirp as the sounds of splintering wood scared them away. Masamune cracked an eye open, his vision bleary, and just short of being able to read the time.

"Oi!" A voice called from outside. Masamune threw his pillow over his head.

The sun had yet to rise.

A hand jiggled the doorknob. He heard another voice. "Rise and shine, initiate!" With another crack, the knob came right off and fell with a thud on the carpet.

He pressed the pillow harder, hoping that they would either go away, or that he could suffocate himself back to unconsciousness. He was too tired to even get angry at the damage.

A hand ripped away his last bit of solace, and a bleary eye was met with an angry silver haired disaster. "To have the absolute gall, to keep us waiting, I should gut you like the useless vermin you are."

As his mind cleared up, the man's name came to mind, and a dopey grin spread on his face. "Good morning to you too, Ishida-kun..." He gently took his pillow back and placed it underneath his head. "Mind giving me 5 more minutes? I was having the best dream..."

Before he could feign sleep, he heard a blade being pulled from its sheath. The moonlight gleamed for only a split second before it plunged right where Masamune's head had been. Masamune pushed himself up from the floor and glared. "I hope you like furniture shopping, dickhead, because I'm billing you for this mess ya made!"

The blade was pointed at him this time, a few feathers still stuck.

"What a mess..." Another voice sighed from the doorway. "Next time, Mitsunari, just knock." Ieyasu smiled, but kept his distance. He wondered what his partner was going to do next.

"Tch." He cleaned the feathers off his blade, sheathing it. "Get dressed, initiate. And if you take any longer, I'll make sure--"

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha. Whatever, I'm sleeping in the car..." He muttered and stumbled to the bathroom.

As the shower turned on, Ieyasu moved to take a seat on his bed. "I wonder why Kojuro didn't want to take this job...I mean it's pretty simple right? Better than guard duty at least."

Mitsunari stood and walked over to the bathroom door. "This boy has been nothing but trouble, even if he is a snake, I don't fault him for throwing this burden upon us."

"He's probably hoping you'll slice him up to ribbons."

"One wrong move, and I'll be happy to oblige...especially after such a sign of disrespect. Hideyoshi should have taken his head as a trophy."

"You of all people shouldn't be questioning Hideyoshi's choices. I'm sure it'll be all for the best, and besides, why miss the chance to forge new bonds? He may be a valuable asset in the future."

Masamune burst from the shower, water dripping all over the tile. He was never one to towel dry.

"For his sake, you had better be right." Jerking the bathroom door open, Masamune shamelessly slithered past them both, shuffling through his drawers for something suitable to wear.

"What the fuck?" He pulled two handfuls of slacks from the drawers.

"Oh, I almost forgot, you won't have to worry about a wardrobe. We took care of that for you, per waka gashira's instructions."

"You threw out my fucking clothes?!" He scrambled through the rest, flinging button up after button up, tie after tie. "My TMR shirt? Are you fucking serious?!"

"You don't need them anymore." He shrugged.

"Is Toyotomi gonna buy me a new shirt?! Because it was ¥300,000 and it was a gift!" Mitsunari threw a spare piece of clothing at his head, effectively silencing the other.

"No more than 3 minutes. We'll be outside." Mitsunari and Ieyasu left, the following silence the most comforting thing he's felt in days.

After letting out a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire being, Masamune ruffled through his slim choices, and finally decided on a powder blue button up and black slacks.

Waiting outside for him was a black sedan, windows tinted to the point of a mirror. He gave himself one more look, checking his teeth, and fixing his eyepatch before the window rolled down. "You ready?"

Masamune slid onto the backseat and shut the door behind him with a huff. "What are we even doing anyway? Need me to lift some more cash off some unsuspecting fool? Or maybe rig some bets?"

As the car drove off, Ieyasu turned back and laughed. "Oyabun has something a little more than just simple tasks in order. Besides, those things set themselves up and keep themselves going without much influence from us." He passed a paper back to him. "Here, get acquainted with these names and addresses. You'll be visiting them very soon." 

Mitsunari grew more and more annoyed as Ieyasu prattled on. "These urchins seem fit to ignore their responsibilities, and this morning it is our job to set them on the right path."

"All you have to do is convince 'em a little. That missing eye and that attitude of yours will work wonders, trust me! Once they make their late payments, you'll get out of their hair, and we'll rendezvous at the final address." He handed him a duffel bag as well, folded up neatly. "Take this as well. We'll drop these off when we're done."

The streetlights seemed to fuse together as Mitsunari barreled down the lonely highway. Even though he didn't care for any of this, acting as muscle couldn't hurt as long as no one got hurt. He figured he could get a few extra yen on his own, if he was smart about it.

"Don't get any ideas, Date." Mitsunari was either a mind reader, or maybe it had happened before. Masamune didn't dwell on it, preferring to catch some rest before playing gangster for the day.

Though it was something he would have to get used to, the sensation of being literally pushed from sleep made a bad day worse. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon as Masamune fell to the pavement.

Ieyasu was smiling, with a hand outstretched. "Mitsunari is too impatient for his own good sometimes."

Masamune shoved the hand away, pushing himself up with a huff. 

"What. the fuck. do you want now?" Being jerked around like this would usually result in some broken noises and lighter wallets, but even in his anger, it was just too early. His payback could wait.

"First client's right inside. This is the first drop-off, and when you're done, you can make your way to the next mark. We set it up so you won't need to be chauffered around, at least not today." He clasped his shoulder and pointed towards the apartment building. "No security, 4th floor, 3rd room from the elevator. Make some noise, throw some shit, whatever you need to do to scare him on the right track. But don't kill him."

"What--?"

Ieyasu sprinted over to the passenger's seat and yelled from the window "Good luck, initiate!", before Mitunsari left him in a cloud of smoke.

Masamune's glance shifted back and forth, from the scrap of paper in his hand, to the building before him. The first name was written legibly, with a hastily scribbled amount of yen next to it. "Debt collector? Really?" He sighed, looking at the exorberant amounts of money each person owed. As he made his way inside, he let out another sigh. "¥14,000,000....¥22,500,000, it's like these dudes really wanna die broke..." Pounding the elevator buttons, he pondered what exactly he had gotten himself into. 

There were no satisfactory answers.

 

Coming up to the apartment's door, he raised his hand to knock on the door before remembering why he was here to begin with. Reaching for the doorknob, he gave it a twist, and to his surprise, the door opened.

"Holy shit..." He whispered, peeking his head through. Though it was still dark, he could see the modest studio apartment, and his target sleeping peacefully on the couch...or so he hoped.

Slipping through, he closed the door behind him, and tiptoed, craning his neck to see what he'd be dealing with. "Maeda, huh...?" The man was curled up in a fetal position, long hair splayed on the couch's armrest.

It was one thing to steal, it was a complete other to rough someone up and get the cash by force. Reaching out, he grabbed the other's shoulder and shook him.

"Mmm, Matsu, what's for breakfast...?" He yawned and turned over, returning to sleep.

Masamune huffed and kicked the back of the sofa. "Get up, sleezebag!" He yelled in his best impression of a gritty voice. Maeda yelled and fell to the floor, banging his head on the nearby coffee table.

"I didn't know she was your girlfriend, man! I swear to god I thought she was single!" He let out a whimper.

"Get the fuck up, or I'll beat yer fuckin' brains in!" He moved over to the coffee table, grabbing a handful of his hair and dragging him from under the table, bringing him to his knees. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck man I'm so sorry! Please don't kill me!" Already he was blubbering, and already, Masamune felt the pit of his stomach twist.

Gritting his teeth, he soldiered on. "Where's the fucking money?"

"Wh-what--?!"

"You don't just piss away 14 million yen and expect us to forget about it do you?" The words tumbled out, made almost incomprehensible by the hoarseness of his voice. 

"What...? Oh my god, oh my god! Look I don't have it with me right now--"

"Cut the shit, where is it?!"

"Hideyoshi and I are friends! He gave me until next month! Please! Just let him know that I'll have it for him plus 10%!" 

Masamune's grip on his hair tightened, as he yanked him to his feet. "I'm giving you to the count of three before I trash this place and rip your fucking head off. 1..."

"Why are you doing this?!" The stench of alcohol only made him angrier.

"2..."

"Okay! Okay! Okay, I get it, the safe....the safe is under the sink!" Masamune sighed in relief, which Maeda mirrored, but the breath was sucked back in as Masamune dragged him to the kitchen.

Maeda was down on his knees again, face mushed against the doors beneath the sink.

"Let's go, I don't have all day, scumbag." He growled, crushing his leg with the heel of his boot.

Maeda let out another scream and clawed at the doors, forcing them open. He hugged the safe, crying against the steel. This time Masamune put all his weight on the foot, leaving harsh indents in the skin.

With shaking hands and rough panting, Maeda tried his best quickly punch in the code for his safe. "T-take it! Take it all! Please just stop! I'm sorry, I'm sorry Hideyoshi..."

Shoving him aside, more out of disgust than anything else, Masamune snatched the bills from the safe. It was much more than he expected. Moving to the coffee table, he laid the yen notes down. Most of the notes were in the form of 2,000 and 10,000 yen.

Luckily for him, Maeda was still nursing a headache and what would be a very sore leg when he sobered up, which allowed him to count up and organize his haul. When it was all said and done, he had an impressive 16.6 million.

He scoffed, bile building in his throat. "You're a terrible fucking liar, Maeda. Next time, I'll take that fucking leg off as collateral. For now, I'll just take this..." He shoved the banded up bills into the duffel bag.

Maeda gave the other one last dejected look before Masamune bolted out of the room.

Flying down the stairs, he could feel the weight of his haul more than the steps beneath his feet. Bursting through a side door, he made it to an alleyway.

The sun was rising, light hitting the pavement at the mouth of the alleyway. Masamune fell to his knees, and vomited. It was pure water and acid, burning his throat, and forcing him to come up for the brisk morning air. Playing a mean trick to get some yen once in a while was harmless, but as the thoughts of disheveled hair, drool, the stench of booze, and those pathetic sobs, he couldn't handle it.

Dirt stained his slacks, and spittle trailed onto his shirt. His throat was all the more worse for that facade he tried putting up earlier.

"Good job, Date!" A cheery voice echoed in the emptiness. "Mitsunari didn't think you had it in you, but you did it! I mean we're not close to done, but it's a good start."

Ieyasu's cheeriness was grating to the point of anger. "He was drunk..." He muttered in response. "He was sleeping and I..."

"Come on, we'll take you to the next client. Don't worry too much! The first time is always the hardest." He reached over and pulled Masamune to his feet. "Besides, it's not like you killed him. You just set him straight. It may not seem like it, but its for his own good!"

A horn could be heard from the mouth of the alleyway.

Today was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize these updates will probably be monthly, however, I hope you enjoy this part! The next part may be coming very soon! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! They really keep me writing tbh. 
> 
> Also I giggle at the thought of Masa fuming over his favorite TM Revolution shirt. [Of course he's a fan, who isn't in the Basaraverse?]


	5. Beauty and the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masamune comes face to face with a fragile beauty, and a seemingly powerful beast. He ends their first meeting the only way he knows how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say these would probably be a monthly update, but yay for me getting it done on the first day of the month! Enjoy!

Masamune tried his best to stay in the car during the next few visits, but it was to no avail. Mitsunari's attempt at being forceful was amusing, but every smirk from Ieyasu brought more bile to his throat and moved the lead from his soles. The next unlucky clients weren't in as such terrible shape as Maeda, but none of the pathetic displays, begging for mercy, begging for extensions, offering their family and loved ones as collateral, were any less nauseating. Each yen note they took away made his own duffel bag seem heavier.

Each name crossed off the list triggered a sigh of relief, and the day dragged on, Masamune could feel himself getting tired.

It was only noon.

Bone struck his cheek, and Masamune woke up choking on his own drool. "What...the fuck...is--" He let out a violent cough as the indent of knuckles tinged his cheek red.

"No sleeping on the job!" Mitsunari hissed from the driver's seat.

"You woke me up before the sun was up, can't a guy get a nap in?!" His complaint fell on deaf ears.

"Last one of the day, Date. Don't worry about this one, it'll be easy as hell, and you'll get a free lunch out of it, guaranteed!" If he were in a less sleepier state, he would have punched Ieyasu in his shitty face, an urge he hoped to sate one day.

In sync, Mitsunari and Ieyasu slid from their seats and headed to the right. Peeking his head out the window, he saw the most garish estate that he had ever come across. 'Estate' was the only right word, as the lawn before them spread as far as he could see, the mansion's front punctuated with a marble fountain. As he tripped out from the door, he noticed that the whole place was very traditional, more palatial, with two layers of accentuated eaves on the roof, and barely any apparent stone in the structure.

Sprinting to close the distance, Masamune yelled, "Hey, are we seeing a client or a shogun? What the hell is up?" Of course, he was promptly ignored, as they both reached the doorfront. An out of breath Masamune caught up just as they rang the doorbell. 

Before long, they were greeted at the door by a delicate beauty. She bowed and gestured them in, never speaking a single word, barely making a sound, the door closing behind them with an almost inaudible click. Masamune gave a smile that quickly faded as he was reminded why they were here.

"Always the chatty one, Oichi!" Ieyasu laughed, clasping a hand on her shoulder. Her frame shuddered slightly, as if it was about to collapse before their very eyes. "I'm assuming Mr. Nobunaga's home?"

She nodded, though her eyes were downcast. "Brother is in the main hall, and grows impatient. Please, come with me." 

With Oichi's guidance, the three of them weaved through burgundy halls upon halls, adorned with paintings, portraits, busts. It was a maze within a maze, though the only one who seemed disoriented by it all was Masamune. Finally, just as his mind caught up with the rest of him, they came upon a grand set of doors, gilded with silver, with two sets of armor as its guardians.

"Swanky..." Masamune whistled as the doors opened.

The main hall's title was well deserved, as it was the biggest room in the mansion, and the biggest area he had ever seen. The ceiling seemed lightyears away, its existence solidified by massive chandelier in the center. The walls seemed to have been carved from precious gems, flecks in the wallpaper glittered in the candlelight. There were statues, some of samurai, some of gruesome monsters, and others that mimicked human bones.

They had taken their seats on a plush velvet carpet. Oichi bowed and left them to their devices.

"How much yen you think this guy's packin' eh? Shoulda told me about him in the first place, I bet you I could squeeze another 1.5 million more than you losers manage." He stretched his tired arms and sore legs, turning his head to feel the velvet on his cheek. "Guy must be on his way to the afterlife too, I could /smell/ death in here."

"Ieyasu, I suggest investing in a gag next time we are to escort this child."

"Date, keep your mouth shut and let us do the talking." Oichi came back as soundlessly as she greeted them, with a tray in hand. Delicately cut finger sandwiches on one side, 3 porcelain teacups on the other.

As she poured them their tea, Masamune couldn't help but stare in fascination of Oda's sister, the timing netting him another backhand. "Insolent mongrel, don't you dare even think about it." Oichi winced and Masamune swallowed a swear.

"I wasn't planning on anything but finishing this godforsaken errand, Ishida-kun." He could feel the bruises forming in both cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, sir. It's my fault, it's always my fault...I shouldn't have said anything more." Oichi quickly grew anxious, fiddling with her hands, almost spilling what remained. Bowing shakily, she slowly moved back, never looking up. She bowed again and again, and soon made her leave as quickly as she had arrived. 

He let out a ragged sigh. When he figured she was out of earshot, he managed to throw up his stifled insults. "You piece of fucking shit, what do you think me for? A fucking lecher?"

Before he could be reprimanded a third time, a harsh, booming voice filled the main hall. "I was only expecting two Toyotomi mutts. Who's the stray?"

Masamune slowly glanced over to Mitsunari and Ieyasu, who had begun to bow where they sat the moment he made his entrance. "Who does this guy think he--"

Mitsunari's sheath smacked the back of Masamune's head, and on his palms he fell, the ornate table before them keeping him in a position of apology more so than respect.

"The mighty Toyotomi are just picking up street urchins now? Disgusting." Oda Nobunaga made his way to the now bowing initiate. "Better you be used for target practice than anything else."

Masamune looked up, and he saw a face so tightly wound, were he to relax for even a moment, years of concentrated hatred would melt him where he sat. Nobunaga promptly took his seat before them, snarling behind a glass of wine. 

"We're very sorry for such a late intrusion, Oda Nobunaga. We bring your cut as promised. For our subordinate's terrible behavior, and his awful mouth, we'll give you ten percent and let you lash the boy." 

"Enough of your barking, Tokugawa, leave what's mine and get out of my sight."

"We only ask of this courtesy and nothing else, we will leave as soon as--"

"You've already stained my grand estate with such disrespect. Scarf down on that one eyed mutt of yours instead."

"Of course sir, we'll see to it that our subordinate is thoroughly punished." All eyes were on him.

This time he was on his feet. "Like I haven't been smacked around enough by you two? Goddamn, I'd rather be working the graveyard shift with Katakura than messing with you fuckheads." Speaking out of turn was sure to net him some broken ribs, but the exhaustion plus the constant abuse was just too much for him to bear on his very first day.

Nobunaga's tightly wound brows only knitted tighter, the low lighting adding a sharp contrast to already harsh features. "Get out."

"Way ahead of you, grandpa." He had already reached the door, his back facing the knob. Masamune gave a single finger salute and bolted out the door, just as he did this morning. This time, there was no side door at hand, only the labyrinth.

A whisper came from his left. The beautiful specter that haunted the estate called his name and pointed. His head was already swimming, but his feet moved, almost on their own. He sprinted down samey garish halls, he bumped into pedestals and closed doors. Somehow she was there to guide him, her meek voice echoing. Left, right, left, right, north, south, east, northeast, on and on and on. Just as he felt he would rot beside a bust of a much younger Oda Nobunaga, fresh air filled his arid lungs.

There was no alleyway he could collapse in a withered heap. All he could do was run. His feet pounded on the pavement, speeding past the car, dashing through the large gates of the estate, and almost falling headfirst onto the dirt road. Catching himself, he launched himself forward, and ran.

He ran and ran and ran. He ran down the long stretch of highway. He ran down the bridge, dodging traffic as if it was second nature. He ran and ran until he could only feel fire in his lungs and acid coat his throat. He ran and ran until there was finally an alleyway, in a part of town so foreign. He didn't care where he ended up, as long as he never had to see those two again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, the pacing in this chapter is crazy. Hopefully I'll be able to work that out soon. Also, that one finger salute...probably not a good idea, just saying. :^)


	6. Tainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirty clothes, dirty deeds. This suffering will leave him tainted.

It was a little past 3 now.

The smallest vibration woke him up. Dry eyes shot open, and through the bleariness, he could see the clear blue sky funneled between two buildings. Sitting up, Masamune pulled out his phone. He had 60 messages. All sent within the last hour and a half, and all from different numbers.

"They've called a search party, haven't they?" He groaned, pushing himself back up on his feet. As he forced up himself upright, he could feel a mixture of sweat and dirt caking on his back. He did his best to dust it off, but it'd take more than some swats to get rid of the stickiness.

He looked back at his phone and sighed. He held it as far away as possible and gently tapped the message icon. The first preview read, "You're a fast boy, I'll give you that..." Another read, "Don't come back, if you know..." It didn't take a psychic to know how that message ended. As he gingerly scrolled down, he saw a familiar name. Tapping the message, he brought the phone closer.

"Kojuro. Where we met. Half hour." The message was a bit disjointed, but he got the gist. Checking the time of sending, he had 15 minutes. He quickly dialed the number, but when someone finally answered, it was someone else entirely. He dialed again, just to make sure, and it was the same. "How the hell...?"

He scrolled through the rest of the messages, but they were just assorted threats and warnings. It was the only one Kojuro sent.

"Shit." He pounded the wall. "It's a fucking trap, it's a trap. They're gonna torch my place, they'll pull me out of the system, they'll just wipe me off completely." As he spoke, he didn't believe his words. They were gangsters, but this was no 'Godfather', surely they had more honor than that.

Masamune looked at the mouth of the alleyway, letting out a ragged huff. He stepped into the afternoon sunlight, hands in his pockets, and his eyes to the ground. Looking any more suspicious would alert someone, and the last thing he wanted was to see Tokugawa and Ishida again. Mitsunari's vicious eyes, Ieyasu's knowing smile, just thinking about it brought goosebumps.

Pulling out his phone, he checked his messages, and pulled the directions from his GPS. Luckily, he'd be there in 10 minutes, if he kept a brisk pace.

The sun seemed brighter than normal, sweat beginning to form on his neck and back. He quickly peeled off the black dress shirt and tossed it in a nearby trashcan. Thankfully, he had some forethought to wear a tank top, though it too was stained with sweat and dirt. He wanted to toss the patch as well, but kept it on, flattening some hair against it as a weak attempt of obscuring it.

After some time, longer than he realized, Masamune reached the familiar alleyway, dried blood baked into the spot where he lost consciousness. A chill shot down his spine, but he did his best to keep composure as he ventured deeper, towards the gate he tried and failed to clear the first time.

"You're late."

"I got lost." 

"Oyabun isn't pleased."

Masamune turned around slowly. "When is he ever? I mean if you had to go around beating up and threatening people who don't deserve it--"

"I didn't realize you were a bastion of morality all of a sudden. From what I've heard, you really scared Maeda, gave him a good beating, and even stole more than was asked." Smoke trailed from a freshly lit cigarette.

"I just did what I was told. I didn't know it was gonna go down like that!"

"Were you disgusted? Did you want to stop and run as you did earlier?"

"Word travels fast around here."

"Answer me." A tone as harsh as gravel echoed between brick walls.

"I'm disgusted. I'm fucking sickened. He was broke, crying, still drunk, I don't...I don't know what you want from me! I'm sorry I'm not a shitstain like you! Sadistic bastard getting your kicks out of kicking others..."

Kojuro gnashed his teeth, stray bits of tobacco causing him to spit the cigarette out. "Why did you come here again if you were so disgusted?"

"Because...! Because I..." Masamune couldn't answer that. Instead, he held up his phone, showing the messages that, even now, were filling up his inbox. "Look at this."

He leaned forward and huffed. "You got scared over some spam?" Kojuro let out a chuckle. "All those are from the same phone, by the by. They spooked you real good, huh?"

"Fuck you."

"Now don't get so defensive. Last time we were here, I knocked the wind out of you. You that hungry for a repeat performance?" He smoothed back his slicked-down hair, a single strand poking out. 

"Why me? It's only been a day, and I already wish I hadn't done it. Is that what you want? An apology?" He raised his arms to the sky. "Hideyoshi, I'm sorry! I wish I hadn't done it in the first place! Kill me if you need to but I can't take this anymore!"

Kojuro rolled his eyes, striding over to give Masamune a firm smack on the back of the head. Masamune instinctively swung, but Kojuro caught his wrist without missing a beat. "You're a drama queen, you know that? Rough up one guy, and suddenly you're crying for mercy. You didn't seem so apologetic when you nabbed that yen, did you? No, you're not sorry you did it. You're sorry you got /caught/."

"No! No, goddamn it, if I knew what this would drag me into, I'd've never done it!" His fists clenched, dirty nails digging into his palm.

"What a pretty lie. Does it let you sleep at night?" 

"Why did you ask for me? Is there a target on my fucking back? Are Ishida and Tokugawa gonna jump from the dumpsters and beat me to death? Why..." 

Kojuro didn't respond. Masamune glared holes through him until he couldn't look anymore. He heard the click of a lighter once more, and suddenly he felt a lump in his throat.

"I'm...gonna die. That's why." He tried slow deep breaths, but he couldn't stop. "You're here to kill me. It's only been a day, but I've already fucked up so bad I'm going to die!" He choked up, tears streaming down his eye. "Kill me then! What good am I, if I can't even..."

"Disgusting."

"What now? Can't handle a kid crying? Are you so fucking cold on the inside that you don't know what being scared is? Because I'm scared, I'm so fucking scared--"

Kojuro, in one fluid motion, reached inside his coat and pulled out a gun, cocked back the hammer and pointed it at his head.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" He scrambled back, tripping on his own feet. He crashed backwards onto the cement, Kojuro keeping a steady aim.

"You ask me to kill you, and then you panic?" Kojuro aimed at his head and fired.

Masamune screamed. 

Click.

In the following silence, Kojuro flicked his cigarette at him. "You don't want to die. You just want pity. You want to be punished just enough that you still feel faultless." Ashes stained dirty slacks even more. Knuckles wrapped around the collar of his tank top. "You're no fucking better than me." Masamune was smothered in the the thick smoke that escaped with every word. "You don't get to call yourself a martyr, you're a thug. And you're with us now. Whether you like it or not."

Masamune's eye flickered between Kojuro's stone expression, and the tanned knuckles gripping onto him. Kojuro twisted the weak fabric, bringing Masamune uncomfortably closer. "And since you're so deadset on the graveyard shift, I'll be back for you in a few hours." The stone fractured, and from beneath the facade, he saw his lips twitch. "Get some rest for tonight. You'll need it."

Kojuro let him go, and walked away without another word.

Masamune sat there for a while. He wiped away some stray tears with a dirty palm. His throat burned. Home wasn't an option. Following Kojuro sure as hell wasn't an option, neither was letting the dynamic duo find him. All he could do was just sit and watch the sunlight slowly creep away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I can only write in 1.3-1.5k increments with each part, I'm so sorry orz  
> But hey two updates in one month! I'm getting slightly better with updating!!
> 
> [Also big ups to good music for inspiring this chapter in particular. The song du jour is Tainted by Celldweller obvs.]


	7. Reason, No Rhyme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calling it the graveyard shift is as accurate as it can get, as Masamune trails Kojuro in taking care of some business.

Masamune was lucky, something he had not been since this whole mess started. Seeing as his own bed would most likely be swarmed the moment he came home, he would need an alternative, if only to take a nap. To his delight, not too far from where Kojuro left him, were a line of warehouses by the water. Many were still in use, but there were a few that had fell into disarray. It wasn't the safest part of town, but there were plenty of nooks and crannies he could lie in, undisturbed.

An hour of walking, a few minutes of climbing, and a few hours of napping later, Masamune woke up to the sound of his cell phone. It was Kojuro.

"Come outside."

"Joke's on you, I'm not at home." He stifled a yawn.

"I know. Come outside." 

"Why not come and get me, if you know where I am?" For a moment, he had forgotten that Kojuro had held a gun to his head only hours before.

"Now." Click.

Masamune tensed at the sound. Quickly, he shut off his phone and tossed it into the darkness. There'd be no point in carrying around what was pretty much a tracking device at this point. Dusting himself off, he made for the entrance of the warehouse. Kojuro was waiting, arms folded, standing in front of a black sedan. His suit was as dark as his car, and for whatever reason, he was wearing tinted lenses.

"You're filthy." Kojuro sneered.

"I'll be sure to find a better hotel next time." Masamune spat back, keeping his distance, his fists at his sides.

Kojuro ignored him and turn his head towards the car. He raised a gloved hand, and pressed a device in his palm. The trunk opened up. "Fresh change of clothes in the trunk, get going."

To Masamune's surprise, the spare clothes not only fit him, but seemed fancier than his standard fare. He couldn't help but gawk at the labels as he slipped on a pair of black jeans, and a navy button up. There were even a pair of sneakers in there. "No way..."

When he had finally dressed [thankfully, the open trunk shielded him from Kojuro's eyes in the rear view mirror], he sauntered over to the passenger's seat, and slid right in. "Where to, partner?"

Kojuro started the engine. "You'll see."

The drive was silent. No radio, no conversation, nothing. As much as Masamune hated his previous passengers, at least Tokugawa and Ishida were entertaining. Every time he glanced over at Kojuro, he saw nothing but a dark statue, covered eyes firmly pinned to the road, nothing in his expression changing, even as streetlights washed over his face.

"What are the glasses for anyway? It's nighttime, you moron..." His voice started off strong, but ended with a mumble to himself. Kojuro didn't seem to react at all.

What felt like hours ticked away the further and further they went, the cars thinning out until there was no one left. Watching streetlights, trees, and endless darkness became boring real fast. It took all of his energy to not fall back asleep.

As his eyes slid down, time seemed to speed up around him. Lights all but disappeared, and even the road felt less traveled. The sounds of tires gnashing against gravel and dirt brought Masamune back to reality. 

Trees swallowed the stars, and before Masamune could even fathom what was next, Kojuro's grunt of annoyance brought him back. "We're here." A sentence he barely finished, as Kojuro slid out of the car, and out of sight. Masamune craned his head back and saw that the trunk had popped open. He numbly followed suit. By the time he made his way over, the trunk seemed to be from a different car entirely.

What once was just empty with a few scattered odds and ends, was now decked out in two steel cases, and boxes of ammunition bordering them. Kojuro pulled up the first case. A single handgun lay inside, nestled between smooth molds. 

"I'm not shooting anyone..." A chill ran down his frame as he saw Kojuro loading a pistol. "Besides, don't you already have a gun?"

Kojuro removed the safety and aimed it away from them both. "I do."

"So why are you--?"

"You'll find out." He punctuated the mystery with the gentle closing of the trunk, and tossed him a box of ammo, and what looked to be a nightstick.

Glorified water boy that he was, Masamune desperately wanted to know what the hell was going on, but the more he asked, the less he seemed to know. "Graveyard shift don't literally mean we digging a grave, right...?" He whispered to himself as he trailed Kojuro deeper into the forest.

The thicker the greenery, the less he could see. It didn't help that Kojuro refused to carry a light that wasn't a lighter. In what seemed to absolute darkness, Masamune tripped on upturned roots, and fell into a clearing. Hidden behind all of that, was a simple 2 floor house, in pristine condition. The lights were on, and smoke wafted from the chimney. 

"Who the hell..."

"Our next target." Kojuro seemed to materialize behind him, causing Masamune to jump.

"Don't fucking do th--" A gloved hand clenched his lips shut. Kojuro put a finger to his own lips. Masamune glared, but stayed silent.

He blinked, and Kojuro was gone. When he looked towards the house again, he could see a black blur move towards the back. Masamune did his best to catch up, but when he finally made it, all the lights in the place went dark. He could hear a muffled yell from the nearest open window.

Masamune forwent all stealth and burst through the back door. Luckily for him, it was already rusted to the point of breaking. Sprinting to the source of the sound, he just barely saw the terrified eyes of an old man, who was held firm in Kojuro's grasp.

"What the fuck are you doing--"

"Where is he?"

The old man wheezed in panic. "I-I don't know who you're talking about! Who is that? Oh god please help me!" He looked at a shaken Masamune, eyes bleary, and close to tears.

Kojuro fired a shot into the man's leg before he could try and approach. "I'm not going to ask again."

He jumped from the sound. "Dude what the fuck, he's just an old man, what the hell--?" Masamune moved again to help Kojuro's victim, but as he came closer, another shiver ran down his spine.

"Ahaha....well I can't just tell you like that, can I?" The old man wheezed again, teeth gleaming in what little light remained. It bothered him how quickly he shifted demeanor.

"Next shot is going through your head. I'll even be kinder than I should, and count down." He brought the gun to the old man's temple. "3...2...1..."

The air escaped Masamune, as the chill came back in full force, this time, wrapping around his throat, and twisting his arm behind his back. 

"Right on time...Fuuma." The lights flickered back on, and it was too much for his poor eye to handle. Spots littered his eyes. He couldn't breathe no matter how much he tried. Somehow, this Fuuma got the jump on him. If he weren't being choked to death, Masamune would've felt embarrassed.

Kojuro fired towards them both, just missing him and his captor, instead, shattering some glass in the next room. The room was spinning, light melded shapes together, and he still couldn't fucking breathe. Masamune thrashed as hard as he could, limbs flying everywhere, but it was no use. His throat was burning, his eyesight was fading, his energy was all but gone. As the world faded to black, Masamune heard several shots his way. The shots just barely missed, but it was enough. 

The cold disappeared, and the world settled at a dull gray.

"Ahahahahaha, you FOOL!" The old man's cackles filled the room. "Kotaro comes and goes as he pleases. If you think you're getting answers from him, or me, you're dead wrong, ahahahaha--!" Another shot was fired off, its echo louder than the demonic chortle.

Whether a few seconds or an eternity passed, he couldn't tell.

Masamune closed his eyes, coughing on fresh air, but making no movements otherwise. He felt footsteps grow closer, and his body tensed. As he felt leather graze his hand, he was at least sure who had come to check on him. Gloved fingers took a firm grasp on his forearm, hoisting a hazy Masamune back on his own two feet.

The other arm snatched the box he held, and with a few steps forward, gently let him go, leaning him on a wall. "Wh-what is going on...?" He coughed out.

Before he could get an answer, shots way too close to his ear were fired off in rapid succession. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, hitting lights, windows, but never hitting the intended target.

"Listen, I've got all night. I know you don't." Kojuro spoke out. "You can run, you can hide, but I'm gonna get answers." He fired two more shots in the ceiling, and casually tossed the emptied gun aside.

Masamune was curled up in the closest corner. He froze as he felt something dripping on him. "O-oh, fuck, I'm bleeding?! No..." He looked up wearily, seeing dark blood drip from one of the holes in the ceiling.

Wind whipped from the open front door. Masamune's eyes couldn't keep up, but Kojuro's seemed to be as keen as ever, an arm coming up to block against a kick.

He grunted against the force, but kept steady. "There you are."

An elbow went down on the knee, almost snapping it back, before Fuuma pulled out. Kojuro threw a haymaker, the other's face catching the brunt of it and flying back. Even with the force, and blood dripping, he managed to catch himself, skidding back on the hardwood and running back towards him, his body low to the ground. Kojuro followed suit, dodging out of the way, his body pivoting to follow up with a sweep. Kotaro launched himself, barely missing the foot. Kojuro, in the other's launch forward, grabbed his foot and pulled him back. Kotaro was on his back, but only for a few seconds, as he rolled away from Kojuro's stomp.

Masamune, still trying to catch his breath, came to his feet, brandishing the nightstick. With Fuuma back on his feet, he raced towards Kojuro again, hopping up. Masamune stumbled forward, and swung the nightstick without abandon, managing to catch Kotaro in the midsection. It wasn't much, but it distracted for the briefest of moments from a straight jab to the neck. The only noise he could make was a choking one, before Kojuro's other arm wrapped around his waist and slammed him to the floor. Masamune scurried over, while Kojuro kept him pinned, holding the nightstick as he would a gun. Kotaro continued to squirm, trying to escape his grip, but with his free hand, he gripped his neck hard.

"What the fuck is going on here?!" He shrieked, his voice hoarse.

Between the gasps, Kojuro saw something laying on the other's tongue. "No pulling this shit on us now." He reached into his mouth, and before Kotaro's jaws could clench down firmly, he pulled out a small capsule. "Potassium cyanide. You fucking coward." He spat, and squeezed harder, harsh veins popping up on his hand.

Masamune was in full blown panic mode now. "I thought you were here for info! You're gonna fucking kill him!" He held up the nightstick, holding it more akin to a bat than anything else. "Let him go so he can at least tell you! He's got nothing left!" 

"Go back to the car."

"What?!"

Kojuro slowly turned his gaze up at him. With the glasses long gone, there was nothing obscuring the fury in his dark eyes. This was a man who shot a defenseless human being, evil or not, in cold blood, and who, even with another struggling to stay alive, manages to feel absolutely nothing but perpetual annoyance.

Masamune lowered the baton, and flung it at him, speeding out of the door into the darkness before he could even react.

This time, his legs couldn't carry him back to an alleyway, far, far away from anything and any one of them. Instead, he could only make it as far as the sedan, keeling over as it came into view, and throwing up what little remained in his stomach. Bile stung his insides, and felt like lava as it escaped his lips. Wheezing and coughing, he felt just as in pain as probably the poor bastard in Kojuro's grip was.

After a few minutes of laying on the cool dirt, taking in as much of the cool morning air as he could. He pulled himself up, and slid into the passenger's seat. He pressed his head against the window, and closed his eyes.

When he finally opened them, the city was coming into view, the rising sun ushering in their return.

Kojuro looked over when he saw Masamune stirring. "Good job out there." He snorted.

Masamune felt what little remained in his stomach rise up. "Fuck you."

"If it makes you feel any better, he's not dead. Just...inconvenienced." Kojuro glanced in the rear-view mirror. Kotaro had long stopped resisting, even before the sack went over his head. Instead, he remained there, face down in the back seat, his legs and arms bound tightly with tape.

Masamune refused to look up. "Just take me home."

"If you say so, but if anyone finds you there, and they ain't me, you're gonna have a helluva problem."

"As long as they kill me in my sleep, I couldn't care less. I just want to fucking sleep, maybe eat."

"We'll get some breakfast after this drop-off."

It took all of Masamune's strength not to open the window and roll into the empty highway. Food managed to sound more appealing than being far, far away from Kojuro. He closed his eyes, letting the sun warm up his paled cheeks. "You're paying." 

Kojuro smirked and sped up, leaving the dark events of the night behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if you didn't think shit was going down before, shit is definitely going down now. Kojuro did warn him. :^) Celldweller keeps inspiring me, as you can see by the title. [Listen to Lost in Time, it's really good!]


	8. Light in the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard nights deliver easier days. From murder to a captive, to a deal and some breakfast. At least the eggs are fresh.

Even before they stepped inside, the scents of fresh food knocked the exhaustion out of Masamune. He was tired, but not as much as he was hungry. Skirmishes with death tended to do that to a man. Taking the lead out of his feet, he sprinted to a nearby booth. Before he even slid inside, he had the menu open. Kojuro took his time, striding past some familiar faces, and even giving a nod to one of the waitresses.

"You said you were paying, right?"

"Don't go crazy." He glanced outside.

"You're a fuckin'," Masamune's eyes darted around, before he continued in a whisper. "gangster.…I mean you're probably rolling in it." The idea of a big hearty meal brought tears to his eyes. "Besides, you fucking owe me. I saved your life!"

Before Kojuro could argue, the waitress came up, with a tired, but genial smile. "Ready to order?"

"Natto, white rice, and vegetable soup please." Kojuro offered a smile in return. Masamune peeked from his menu, surprised by the act. "And the kid'll have--"

"Speak for yourself, old man. I'll have..." He pretended to peruse the menu just a few seconds longer. "Broiled fish, miso soup, white rice with a couple of fried eggs, bacon, and sausage. Oh, and the freshest coffee you've got." Kojuro's smile faded into a scowl. 

"So," Masamune began, with the waitress out of earshot. "What /exactly/ was the plan last night?"

"Let's just say things didn't go as planned. What I wanted was info, but what I got was something...well let's just say it's more valuable." That seemed to be all he would say about the matter.

Masamune fiddled with the menu a bit before he spoke. "...you said earlier I wouldn't be able to go back home. If that's the case, where can I go?" He was already mourning the loss of what little he had.

"Well before you think about skipping town, maybe you should try and make peace with those you've wronged. Discourtesy is as big an insult as any."

"And how do you expect me to do that?"

"Make amends. Apologize. Do something right for once in your life. First, speaking to Hideyoshi might be a good idea. If he doesn't decide to "take" something from you, then you've gotta appeal to Nobunaga next. And he's a riot and a half."

"Yeah I noticed." Masamune buried his face into crossed arms, only perking up at the sound of plates being placed on the table. Without even looking, he grabbed his chopsticks and dug into the closest bowl, the taste of yolk mixing in with the rice was absolute heaven. Before Kojuro could even finish his soup, Masamune had picked the broiled fish clean. He had burned himself a few times, but barely paid it any mind.

"Actually..." Kojuro spoke after a long silence interspersed with slurping from Masamune. "Seeing as I'm paying, you've gotta pay me back." 

"You gonna dock my non-existent pay now? Listen, the most valuable thing I own is not for sale alright...."

Kojuro held up his hand. "I've got a better idea. How about, I take you in, you work off your debt, and you can figure out your business in the meantime."

He almost choked on his soup when he heard the proposition. "You've gotta be kidding me. What's the catch...?"

"Like I said, you've gotta pay me back." He finished the rest of his soup with a sigh. "And you can start...with that." He turned his gaze to the floundering form in his backseat. The plan was to get that done before breakfast, but even Kojuro couldn't go that long without something to eat.

Masamune turned horrified eyes in the same direction. "Wh-what do you want me to do?" He lowered his voice to a hiss. "I'm not fucking killing him if that's what you want. That was supposed to be taken care of before we got here...!" The memories of only hours ago flashed through his mind, and remembering the old man, shot in cold blood, brought a shiver to his body.

"It's just a delivery. Don't worry, it's all clean. Can't filthy that conscience of yours so soon." He chuckled and took a drink of the other's coffee.

Masamune was too distracted by what the delivery really meant, to fret over some coffee. "What if he escapes?" The body's movement ceased.

"He won't. I made sure of that while you were pissing yourself back there."

"Really? If I was such a burden, why the fuck did you make me come with?"

"I didn't make you do anything. You could've walked away at any time, it's not like I--"

"Even if you didn't kill me, someone would try their hand, I'm sure." He pointed his sticks right in Kojuro's face. "...and you couldn't have that...because if you did...." He lowered his sticks, a grin plastered on his face. "You would have died. That's why you brought me, for insurance." 

For once, Kojuro didn't have a comeback, nor a scoff of derision. "...oh my god I'm right, aren't I?"

"You talk too much." He downed the lukewarm coffee and slid the mug over. The rest of their meals were finished in silence.

As they stepped outside, just as the door was closing, Masamune heard some shrieking behind them. He jumped forward and spun around. The waitress who had served them earlier was saying something to her friend, as she gripped a small piece of paper. He turned back around as the two embraced each other in a hug. "Wonder what that was about..."

Kojuro couldn't help but smile.

"We should've gotten him something to eat," Masamune said as he slipped into the passenger's seat. "I know he's a hostage at all, but you did shoot first, least you could do..."

"He could do to lose a few pounds, lugging that frame of his all the way to the car, was a nightmare by myself." He turned the radio on, setting it to some morning news station, low enough that it wasn't a distraction, but loud enough that Masamune could pay attention.

"So where are we going?"

"You ask too many questions. Shh."

"Don't shush me--" Gloved hands, just like last night, pressed his lips closed. This time however, Masamune, with regained energy, smacked his hands away. "You and the idea of personal space should become best friends, because that shit doesn't fly with me."

As Kojuro turned his attention to the road, Masamune couldn't help but look back at their captive. His dark clothes were caked with dry mud, and the tapes that bound him seemed to be digging uncomfortably deep. Masamune looked back at his own clothes, surprised that they were cleaner than he remembered. "Last I remember was a dirt nap..." He mumbled to himself.

Expressways seemed to be a common sight for Masamune these days, he felt like he was on a road trip where the only stops involved roughing someone up.

"Is that old man dead?"

"Yes. Unfortunate casualty, but it happens." Kojuro slid his glasses back on, just as they turned in an underpass.

"Unfortunate casualty? That dude was innocent!" Masamune turned to him just as Kojuro turned the engine off.

"We're here." As always, it was an issue that Masamune didn't feel like pushing further.

As they stepped out, a few cars and men were waiting for them. Masamune slicked back his hair and adjusted his patch, never know when Hideyoshi might pop up.

"Masamune!" A familiar voice caused him to freeze. "There you are! Kid with winged legs, you are!" Ieyasu smiled, and sped over to give Masamune a hug. "Are you alright? You sped off so suddenly, we had no idea what happened."

His delicious breakfast seemed to turn into garbage in his stomach, as just Ieyasu's touch seemed to encourage it rising up to his throat. All he could manage out was a quick, "Yeah sorry about that I shoulda said something but yanno things happen..." He tried to move his attention to the new face standing directly behind him.

"Mister Oda was pretty insulted, but don't worry, Mitsunari and I let him know what was up. Just apologize and it will all be well!"

"Y-yeah, I'll do that..."

"Kojuro! You're looking well!"

"Where is he?"

"He's running a bit late, so in the meantime, please, let us know, is he alright?"

Kojuro elbowed Masamune. "Go get him."

Masamune froze again before realizing that this was the beginning of his payback. He turned around, gingerly opening the door, and crawling inside. Kotaro began to move again.

"Listen," He said in a low voice. "I'm not the guy who tried to kill you, so could you at least behave...just make this easier for the rest of us."

The figure didn't respond. "...Okay, well I'm gonna grab your legs and stand you up okay, there's nowhere to run, trust me I looked." The figure stopped moving, and he let out a sigh of relief. Sliding back out, just enough that his feet hit the ground, he grabbed both legs and gently tugged him out from the backseat, trying his best not to drag him on the ground. 

"H-here he is! Safe and sound."

Ieyasu smiled and turned to the man behind him. "Sakon, make sure Hanbei gets the news as soon as possible, alright?"

The man with the two toned hair smiled, nodded, and jogged off. Masamune could already feel Ieyasu's influence infecting the other.

Soon, a group of suit-clad men came to take the, admittedly heavy, captive away, dragging him to a nearby sedan, and tossing his frame with little sympathy.

"And so this treasure increases in value." Masamune felt his bones would break, as his muscles painfully tensed at the sound of that voice.

"Matsunaga, I didn't realize you had already arrived." Kojuro spoke first. "There's your precious bundle. Couldn't get any information, my apologies. However, I'm sure you'll do what you need to, to secure it."

"And what of him?" He gestured towards Masamune, who resembled a deer caught in headlights.

"Under control, sir." 

"Good. He may be worth his weight after all." He turned to Masamune, looking down with sharp eyes and a sharper smile. Masamune's breathing slowed to almost nothing. "Yes, I can already see some glimmer under all that grime." He turned and gestured to the other men. "Dismissed. Secure a team so that we may begin interrogation." 

As he returned to his car, the mood palpably shifted. "Now that you're back, you'll need to catch up on the tasks you've missed. You'll be forgiven, but I will have to accompany you from now on. Don't worry, it'll just be the two of us, if that's alright with Kojuro, of course."

"I'm not the kid's babysitter." 

"Alright then, bright and early, we'll begin anew. As for today, consider it your day off, Masamune. Rest, get settled, before you know it, you'll forget all of this ugliness." He waved as Kojuro dragged him back to the car.

As they drove off, Matsunaga took a seat next to his captive, ignoring the old dirt that now stained his leather seats.. He gently pulled off the sack over his head. "How badly did they scratch you, I wonder?" Kotaro said nothing. Matsunaga glanced down at the makeshift bandage. "Never hire brutes to handle tools." He scoffed. "All that will be necessary is a little sharpening..."

Signalling to the driver, the SUV sped off, leaving the underpass in a trail of smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't abandoned this I swear. ;v; Sorry that this isn't much from a 2 month gap, but I've been hella busy. Hopefully I can update more frequently. As always, thank you for reading!


	9. Silence Confined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dying embers of a rival war begin to rekindle as worrying news is delivered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha what's an update schedule I've never heard of that  
> I'm in college hell but it's almost over so maybe I can update more? If anyone's still reading this tyvm uwu  
> Comments n kudos appreciated ;v;

The moment the car slowed down, Sakon burst from the door and sprinted inside. He navigated through the labyrinth of their hideout with the greatest of ease. It was only first first week, and he was already the messenger for the higher ups.

For him, running up stairs seemed less harrowing than running down them, as he almost tripped and fell down several floors quite a few times. Normally he could slither through almost anywhere, but gravity was a fickle thing. Almost slamming into the final door, he used his momentum to spin towards the key code machine and type in the numbers with a flourish. Luck seemed to always be at his side.

Finally, he arrived at the entrance of the command center, skipping with glee as he reached Mitsunari.

"What took you so long?"

"Mitsunari! How have you been? Has Hideyoshi kept you busy? New initiate seems....pretty strange, but I'm sure he's fun to work with." His motor mouth was running at kilometers a minute.

"What is the news?" He huffed, but while his demeanor was eternally dark, he didn't seem to show any malice towards the young Sakon.

"Fuuma's riding with Mr. Matsunaga. He's not in great shape, and Matsunaga isn't super please, but when is he ever, eh?" Mitsunari crossed his arms. "While Masamune..." Sakon said his name with an upward inflection, unsure, as one would a question. "Is riding with Mr. Katakura. Between you and me," He lowered his voice and ducked his head, looking around. "I think Katakura has some plans for Masamune, I mean probably good ones, but you never know. Hanbei thinks Kojuro's gunning for his spot...but you didn't hear it from me."

Mitsunari let out a dry chuckle, and waved him off, shooing him away and thanking him all in the same gesture. The last line bothered him considerably. Working with Hideyoshi was, in his opinion, a high honor, but not once had he even expressed wanting to enter the command center unless needed. Besides, Hanbei was all he needed, and all he would ever need, to keep his iron grip on the city.

Mitsunari shook those thoughts away, and tapped the door behind him. It took a certain number of times in a strange rhythm, but finally the door opened, and he shuffled inside.

Hideyoshi and Hanbei were kneeling on the floor, a giant map of the metro area before them. Marks and miniature figures were scattered all over, alongside neat writing next to the bigger figures. Hideyoshi was less of a mob boss, and more of a military genius, with the help of his master strategist. Within such a short period of time, Hideyoshi's influence had spread from the moderately sized city, all the way across the islands, and he even had some U.S. alliances with local gangs as well. The police couldn't touch him, the government wouldn't dare, for the long list of dirty laundry that they had stashed for such occasions. Hideyoshi, above all, valued power, and all those who didn't wield it, would be crushed under his boot.

Mitsunari's precence caused the both of them to look up, Hanbei with a smile, and Hideyoshi with the same stern expression as ever.

"Come in, Mitsunari. Have you news for Hideyoshi?"

He quickly knelt, placing his sword in front of him, and making sure not to get to close to their map. "As a matter of fact yes. Shima has just reported that Matsunaga has recovered the missing assassin, with minimal injury, and I believe they will be in need of the interrogation room shortly. The missing Date boy was also recovered, with the help of Katakura. It seems Katakura may finally clean his mess and force the boy to listen for once." He bowed, his eyes never making eye contact. 

"Very good, anything else?" Hanbei smiled, as a proud parent would.

"Nothing else to report." It bothered him immensely to bite his tongue, especially at something that concerned Hanbei personally, but he would rather play it safe than spurn an unnecessary manhunt.

The smile remained, but his eyes knew better. "Very well, dismissed. And good job."

Mitsunari bowed again, and rose, scooping up his blade, and sliding back outside. As the door clicked quietly, Hanbei turned to look at Hideyoshi, who had been focusing on the map the entire time.

"I don't trust him."

"Matsunaga knows what the punishment for betrayal, but you do well to keep him at arm's length. He is useful however."

"How long?"

"For as long as we need him. Almost all men outlive their usefulness, and while he has supplied us with much, I fear his time may be running out quicker than he expects. I would say it depends on how well the interrogation goes, but I am no psychic." Hanbei began plucking the figures gently, shifting them around.

"He is a dog of the enemy. And so is that assassin."

"That may be, but even the filithiest mutt can still bite hard, and we need their bite, not their bark." The small figures began to circle around a part of the map very distant from their location. "And after that, we will rip out their teeth, so they may never bite again."

"We will crush him into the ground, and that is the day I wait for."

"I'm surprised you only find him suspicious."

"Initiates come and go, to worry about a mongrel like Date is to waste my time. If Katakura cannot do what he can, then he may join Matsunaga in a joint grave. As can all who dare defy me."

"Kojuro is still very useful." Hanbei pondered for a moment, still thinking about Mitsunari's almost imperceptible hesitance. "I wonder if he will accept my invitation to join us here. Wallowing with the new meat can only dull a man's spirit and his skills. He should be better suited to plan, not to fight."

"You are here."

"That I am, but two minds are much more effective." The corner of his glossy lips tugged upwards into a half smirk. "Besides, we have the enemy to eliminate."

"What of the enemy?"

"Simple, to kill a snake such as Nobunaga, you must first cut off methods of escape, and then with a single, decisive slash," Hanbei plucked one last piece, flinging it into the air. At the peak of its ascent, he pulled out his sword and split it in two. "You cut off his head."

Hideyoshi's eyes darted to the two sides that fell a distance away.

"As for now, we will remain on civil terms. Everything will go according to plan."

Mitsunari let out a sigh before sprinting after Sakon, who was still in sight. Just as he moved to turn the corner, he yelled out the other's name.

"Hey! Did the meeting go well? What did Hideyoshi say--" With one fluid motion, Mitsunari grabbed him and flung him into the nearest empty room, sliding inside and closing the door behind him.

"What do you know?" Sakon, despite being so new, didn't question it. Even when Mitsunari unsheathed his blade and pointed it at his throat, he didn't even hesitate.

"Listen, if you're talking about the Date/Katakura situation, I don't /know/ anything. But I felt something. Then again they're both pretty weird so who the hell knows?" He grinned and hopped to his feet. "If you want, I can keep an eye on them. I'm sure I can give the captured assassin a run for his money!" He hopped from one foot to another, throwing jabs in the air and roundhouse kicks at nothing.

"No..." He sheathed his sword and turned away from him. "Save your energy for more important things. Keep an eye on the assassin..." And Matsunaga if possible, he wanted to say. Sakon's words bothered him still, but to place so much faith in the words of a man who wields luck like he wields his blade was something more akin to Ieyasu.

He was a smarter man than that.


	10. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kojuro begrudgingly brings Masamune to stay, for as little time as possible. However, coming home is always different when there's someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays yo  
> i'm actually trying to keep to my promise and updating since i'm free from finals hell  
> so why not write a little R&R [though there is little rest or relaxation here]
> 
> kudos/comments appreciated ;w;

Masamune wondered if there were more than 24 hours in a day. He faded in and out of sleep as they rode back, and he could swear they're were no more closer than they had been an hour ago. The days that had past felt like they were so long ago, even though he had spurned this mess only weeks before.

There were too many things going on at once and too many people to gingerly walk around. If he could find a way to refund this whole experience, he'd pay all the yen in the world to go back to his tiny apartment, and his boring life.

The radio was turned down to a murmur, news and music sounding the same. Masamune tossed and turned in the passenger's seat, trying to find a sweet spot to nap the soreness away.

"Stop moving."

"Where are we going?" Masamune shut his eye for a few moments.

"We're almost there." When he opened it again, the city was already in view.

He closed it again for a while, and soon he was on the edge of slumber. The car stopped, and the ignition was turned off. "Give me another 5 minutes, man."

"If you get up, you'll find a better place to sleep." Kojuro slid out of the driver's seat, not waiting for Masamune. As Kojuro strolled up to a nearby building, Masamune cracked an eye open. Apartment complexes towered the both of them.

"Wait...you're serious." He said to no one. "I can't believe I have to crash at your place..." Wiping the grogginess away, Masamune tumbled out of the passenger seat, jogging up the stairs where he spotted the other last, and tried to follow his trail.

He had already made it to the third floor when he saw Kojuro poke his head from the bannister. "Where are you going...?" Masamune had half a mind to scale down the railings, but his body was getting sore the more he was awake.

Finally, he met up with the other in front of the apartment door. Masamune wondered what was inside. Kojuro didn't seem to be very flashy, but he figured there were more than just skeletons in his closet.

When the door finally opened, he could see a cluttered main room, the style in between modern and traditional, glass coffee tables, sliding doors to closets, a small TV in the far back, with a ratty couch and a kotatsu fighting over available space. Everything inside seemed to be redundant, a waste of space, in his eye.

"Don't touch anything." Kojuro snorted as he strolled inside.

"Trust me, I don't want to." He scoffed as he gently closed the door behind him. "So...the couch is where I crash right?"

"I said don't touch anything." Kojuro went over and slid open a nearby closet.

"...a futon? That seems a bit much, although I appreciate it." He rubbed the back of his neck. The mood in the room shifted, and he could feel sweat dot his skin. 

"Yeah well...you /are/ a guest." He didn't turn to face him. "I know we had breakfast, but are you hungry?"

If this was an act, he wanted nothing to do with it. "Uh...nah, I'm good. Anything to drink?"

"I'll make some tea--"

"T-tea? Dude, no it's cool....what's up with you, Kojuro? You're acting really weird...well, weirder than usual."

A hand hovered over the door to the kitchen. He finally turned to face him. Behind the glasses, Masamune noticed the bags under his eyes, and the scar on his cheek looked more sunken in than usual. "I know you were spawned from the gutter, but like the rest of humanity, I was raised to have some manners."

"I've made your life pretty miserable these last few days...I mean that's your fault too, but still." This entire situation had him at a loss.

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't actually have any tea in the kitchen, and the futon you're using was one I was planning to throw out anyway." He smirked. "Also I doubt you're small enough, but you're sleeping /in/ the closet, not outside."

"That's abuse."

"That's what you want, right?"

"You have a point. I'll just have some water then." He gave an awkward smile back, and planted himself on the couch when Kojuro disappeared into the kitchen. 

Masamune was snoring gently when Kojuro came back with a glass of cold water. He was in the fetal position, his brow furrowed and his mouth wide open. Kojuro had half a mind to pour the water on his head, but it would be a waste. Instead, he pinched his nose shut until Masamune choked himself awake.

"What the fuck?!"

"I said the futon. Also your water."

Masamune scrambled up, almost knocking the glass away. "Can't a guy get some shut eye for once? I haven't slept a wink since you fucking dragged me into this mess."

"I didn't do a thing, /thief/."

"Why didn't you just beat me up and take the money back?! It wasn't even worth making me work the rest of my life for you scumbags!" The words were spilling out, his eyes bulging, the bags underneath them growing darker.

"I would have, but orders changed."

"Fucking...why me man? I'm gonna ask this until I'm in the fucking ground, but...why me? Look at me!" He gestured at his frame, lean, but not too thin, he then pointed at his eyepatch, or what he thought was it anyway. Depth perception was a hell of a thing when you could only see half of everything.

"Listen, if I were calling the shots, I would've left it alone. You're more trouble than you're worth." It was Kojuro's turn to snap at him. "We give you new clothes, money, food, a place to stay, weapons, medical care, and for what? I could pick out a gutter rat outside and have it be more useful." The stress lines on his forehead grew into trenches.

"So why not kick me out? Let me crash at Mitsunari's or Ieyasu's, or even the new guy for fuck's sake. If I'm such a nuisance why keep me around?!" He just couldn't understand. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't wrap his head around why Kojuro of all people would take him in.

Kojuro only gestured to the closet.

Masamune held up his hands, shaking them as he gave one final silent plea for an answer. The shaking hands balled up into fists as he went over to the futon closet and crawled inside. Kojuro watched him and then walked back to the kitchen, guzzling the cold water.

Finally, with little difficulty, he let sleep take over, and for once, he dreamed.

Kojuro heard the snoring, despite how light it was, from the kitchen table. He let out a sigh. The kid was acting like a toddler the whole time, and would continue to, but...letting him into anyone else's hands would be a disaster.

He stood up, and grabbed a box near the room's exit. It was filled to the brim with papers, some crumpled, some stained, some yellowed from sun exposure. Walking into the living room, he shut off the TV, stripped off his button up, and sat near the kotatsu. He spread the pages all over, a mess, but one he could understand.

The papers held all sorts of information, mission reports, expenses, maps, formations depending on location and terrain, losses and gains from former campaigns. He was mostly on babysitting duty, but even after everything, he always had time for strategy. It was something he shared with Takenaka Hanbei, who had almost always invited him to join them for a private meeting. Kojuro always politely refused.

Something about Hanbei brought a shiver to his spine, and a grimace. Besides, Hideyoshi didn't seem too displeased either way. Hanbei would be enough. It wasn't something he'd want to come between. He'd never reveal how he felt, lest he felt like losing a head.

A particularly loud snarl came from the closet. It was strangely comforting. It had been a very long time since he had a guest. It was strange, knowing someone else was there, even if they weren't conscious. 

He sighed and lay on the floor, glancing every while at the reflection in the TV. Masamune was a brat, but he was still young. All he needed was a bit more molding, and he'd probably be worth something. 

He remembered his time in the medical bay. Masamune was in such terrible shape, he had to be put in a medical coma for a week or so. He remembered when they wheeled him into the surgery room. He had a hell of an infection from where he injured himself during the chase, but worse than that, he was in terrible physical shape. Malnourished, weakened muscles, his skin a deathly pale, a heart barely beating under that chest. It was an absolute miracle that he did what he did, and almost got away with it too.

Kojuro remembered going to visit every day, mostly out of curiosity, partially out of orders. Each day the color came back to his skin, his muscles were still plenty weak, but it honestly could have fooled him after he had woken up. He almost felt some shame for forcing him to "clean up his mess" just after he woke up...but he also deserved it for being such a little shit.

The boy was a miracle in a few senses though, and an annoyance in many more.

Losing himself in memories, he could feel himself falling asleep. He had too much work to do to be taking a nap. With a firm slap on the cheek, Kojuro sat back up, pulling out some glasses from his pocket, sighing at the fact that his eyesight seemed worse today. He began to pore over the vast amount of information at his fingertips.

The hours came and went like the passing storms.

Masamune was already searching his pockets before he even opened his eye. With a harsh sigh, he remembered that his phone was no more. He tried to remember his dream, but it was nothing but a mishmash of noises, faces, and something that caused his chest to ache every time he tried to remember. He wanted to go back to sleep, but his body wouldn't allow it.

Sitting up, he let his feet dangle over the edge of the closet's shelf. Rubbing his eyes, the one sewn up a little more gently than the one that worked, he noticed something.

Sliding out, he saw Kojuro half-sprawled on the kotatsu. His face was turned towards him, eyes firmly shut, a normal frown relaxed into almost a smile, in the right light. He noticed the glasses and stifled a laugh. "What a fucking nerd..." He whispered. Striding over, he took a glance at the pages all over the surface. None of them made a lick of sense to him, but he could see some familiar names in the mix. He also noticed Kojuro's cellphone beside him. Gingerly picking it up, he checked the time.

2:55 a.m. He had been asleep for more than 12 hours. Somehow it didn't feel like it.

Out of curiosity, Masamune tried to see if he could unlock his phone, and to his surprise, he had managed, since Kojuro didn't think to put some sort of lock. Kojuro murmured, and Masamune froze. With his eye darting back and forth between him and the phone, he held his breath. As Kojuro turned to face away, Masamune scurried into the kitchen, out of sight.

Nothing was customized, factory backgrounds and lock screen, no case, not even a custom font. There was barely anything on the phone, except for a few pictures. Most of it was default images, but there were a few he figured Kojuro took himself. It was pretty standard, skyline views at night, a selfie that only showed an outfit, photos of documents, and one that stood out among the rest.

Making the photo bigger, he noticed that it was a candid photo. Someone else had taken a picture of a...smiling Kojuro, his hands dirty, kneeling in what looked like a garden, a bulb in one hand, and a trowel in the other. There was no scar on his cheek, but the date was recent, which meant this wasn't the phone that took it.

"Farmer turned gangster, huh? Pfft, what a loser." He heard mumbling from the other room. Masamune tiptoed back into the living room, and gently placed the phone where Kojuro had left it, desperately hoping he wouldn't wake up at any point.

He wanted to go back to sleep, but there was no way he could now. He looked down at his clothes, sweaty and stained. Now was as good of a time as any for a good, long shower. Snatching a towel by the piles of whatever nearby, he strolled into the bathroom.

As the shower turned on, Kojuro woke up, a cold sweat breaking on goosebumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kojuro's a giant nerd? who knew...surely not me.... :^D


	11. Thawing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cold war is long overdue for some warming up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's super long and the pacing is so off but i consider this penance for taking so long ; v; the dragon's claws haven't yet fully grown...soon tho....

Though 'rage' was not a word that would ever be used to describe Matsunaga Hisahide, there was something about the way he strode into the interrogation room that summoned all sorts of images, all of them inspiring something close to a silent rage.

He had not been a part of the other interrogation methods used, but as he stepped inside, even being beaten half to death looked more favorable than a face to face meeting.

Fuuma Kotaro took his place on the opposite end of the table, his body strapped to a special chair, not unlike one suited for prison executions.

"Though the raven flies, and through his shadows he hides, nothing can stop one who is eagle-eyed." Matsunaga did not take a seat. Instead he looked down at his captive, his expression nonplussed. "Kojuro, who is tarnished silver, at best, took you down near-effortlessly. You are a pitiable excuse of an assassin, if a dog can clip your wings."

Kotaro did not move, or speak, or even breathe. His clothing was still littered in gunpowder, visible skin with bruises and bits of, dried and fresh, blood. His dark red hair covered his face, some caked with the blood dripping from his lips. The men had been ruthless with their 'methods', things from waterboarding and sensory deprivation, to cutting bits off of him, from pieces of skin, to the tip of a finger and a toe. 

To an outsider, it looked like Hisahide was talking to a corpse rather than a living breathing being. 

"Not a single cry." Matsunaga strode over to Kotaro, and stood behind him, a gloved hand forcing his head to face forward, at the reflection of the one-way window on the wall. "Did Hojo take your voice as well as your skill? Or does a misguided sense of bravery plague you?" The blood began to coat his gloved fingers, and he could feel faint breathing, in between the gentle pulse. His hand grazed over scabbing scars and fresh bruises. pressing only where it hurt the most.

Matsunaga heard whispering from his earpiece, and this time it was he who faced the window, eyes burning into faces he couldn't see. The whispering ceased. "He will be no good in this state." Though his thought was not finished, he could hear the click of the door open, and the scattering of people from the inside. 

They had failed him miserably. Kotaro was as tight-lipped now, as he had ever been. A smile flickered over his facade for only the briefest of moments. He had trained the other right. Even if it would force him to take a blow to his ego, it was more than worth it.

It wasn't until the door clicked again that he removed the earpiece.

"What an interesting tool you are...Hojo was a fool to let you be ripped from his clutches too easily. Even the mighty Devil King himself, wastes your potential." The gloved hand turned his face gently from side to side, admiring the condition he was in, despite the damage. "In due time, you will be sharpened, and worth your weight in gold once more."

Before he continued on, with keen ears, he heard the door burst from the other side. A familiar voice came from the earpiece. "Mr. Matsunaga, sir! Hanbei requests your presence immediately...don't ask me why, I have no idea myself." The gambler. "Hideyoshi stepped out for a bit, so it'll just be you two!"

Using the rags Kotaro still wore, he wiped the blood from his hand off and left without a second glance. He hadn't even waited for Sakon to meet up with him, as he made his way up to command center. Heavy breathing and pleads to wait echoed in the staircase.

Just as the door closed at the foot of the stairs, Sakon spun and slid through the crack, taking his place besides Matsunaga. "Wow, you're a lot faster than I thought." 

"Who told you to report Hideyoshi's position?"

"Uh, the big man himself. Well, that's what Hanbei told Ieyasu, who told Mitsunari, who told me, anyway." He could only catch his breath for a few seconds before he noticed the other turn the corner. Before he could even reach the other, the door to the main room shut before him.

Hisahide had only been here once before, at the very beginning when he offered his services. So far, he had convinced them that he was the best at what he did, blackmail, recon, ambushes, espionage, the works. He kneeled before the desk, on which sat a single black folder.

Out of the shadows came Takenaka Hanbei, bright lips curled up in a genial smile. "Punctual as always." He took a seat before the other, hands folding on top of the black file.

"Of course."

"How goes the interrogation?"

"The assassin, despite your men's best efforts, refuses to speak."

"And your efforts have bore no fruit either?"

A transparent attempt to strike at the ego. "Regrettably."

"That's quite a shame, but I doubt the assassin could relinquish so much in one meeting, no matter the immense pressure placed."

"My thoughts exactly." He tilted his head and smiled, a mask of geniality. "So, what have I done to earn this honor?" 

"You know it as well as I, Hisahide. Embers that have never cooled, threaten to rage again. It's bad enough some of the younger brothers scramble to and fro, some lost in the mix, but now we hear whispers of possible plans."

"The all too familiar signs of a cold war thawing. I will have to hasten my efforts to get the much-needed information then."

"Please, do so. However, we will need more than that in the coming months, maybe even weeks." Hanbei unfolded his hands, finally opening the file beneath them. He pulled papers and photos out gently, spreading them across the table. The photos were somewhat blurry and grainy, the fault of the equipment and those who wielded it, but they did the job well enough.

Men carrying everything from simple handguns, to assault rifles, to blades of different lengths and sharpness. In almost every shot, he could see the Oda crest flying somewhere. The documents spelled out the same, inventories of weapons, explosives, and other assorted trinkets. "So the preparations begin. There is only so much one can do before an enemy can no longer be kept at bay."

"Very apt. Hideyoshi does not worry, but he would rather loose ends be tied up sooner rather than later. He is off on business, and will return in a few days. For now, I will assume command."

"I could think of no one better."

"As for my first act, I want you to continue to work on your interrogation, but I would also ask that you use him for his intended purpose. Educate him on his former masters, convince him to join our side. Use him as you would use any tool at your disposal."

"It will be done." The most genuine promise Matsunaga could muster. They shared another smile, a signal that his stay would be increasingly unwelcome if he didn't leave immediately. "Give Hideyoshi my best wishes, only a man as powerful as him should be suitable to rule." 

Even before Hanbei could offer his thanks, Matsunaga moved to the door, and left the other in contemplative silence.

In a tiny apartment on the other side of town, Masamune, in his attempt to finally get himself clean, tried his best to ignore the banging on the bathroom door.

"Open up."

"Wait your turn...rude--" He could hear keys jingle, and the door burst open, forcing Masamune to peek from the shower curtain. "Can't I get a little peace and quiet?! What are you going to watch me shower too?"

Kojuro scoffed and walked over to the sink, turning the faucet on and splashing cool water onto his face. Normally, he could just catch his breath, take a shower, think over what he saw, what he felt, but of course Masamune had to ruin that too.

He had only just woken up but everything seemed to be moving a mile a minute to the point that when Kojuro hadn't moved from his spot by the time Masamune finished, the other was visibly worried.

"Hey....Kojuro....? Are you alright...?"

"Out." He snapped back into reality for only a moment before spacing out again. Masamune huffed but didn't press it, snatching his towel and sprinting out, clutching it to his waist.

Just as the door closed, he sighed, realizing he didn't even grab the last of his clothes. They were pretty filthy, but they were the only ones that fit, to his dismay. Anything else was outside, and there was no way he was going to sprint to the car naked. 

He left Kojuro to mull over whatever it was, while he decided to go diving into the pack-rat junk Kojuro decided to keep. 

Kojuro sighed, wiping away the condensation from the mirror. He clenched his jaw, furrowed his brow, and moved to sitting on his knees. Dreams were a hell of a thing, but he felt this one manifest in his stomach. Crawling over to the toilet, he looked inside the bowl, and the reflection of his face. The bags were heavier, the wrinkles deeper, and the scar looking as fresh as ever. He took a few deep breaths, and just as he wanted to pull away, yesterday's breakfast decided to come up the wrong way.

Masamune had settled on a faded t-shirt too big and some baggy cargo pants. Neither seemed like they were worn in a very long time, from the stale scent and the dryness. 

Just as he plopped on the couch, he could hear vomiting from the bathroom. Masamune cringed, and turned on the TV, raising the volume just enough that the noises were drowned out. There was nothing currently on worth watching, so he just left it on as he got up to look around. There was so much junk, he felt that Kojuro was going to be buried by it, never to be seen again. Old cardboard boxes, stray pieces of clothing, what he figured were broken electronics, radios, another TV, phones, a computer, and god knew what else.

A ring from the kotatsu startled Masamune. He waited, hoping it would stop ringing, but it kept going. He didn't hear any more vomiting, but he also didn't hear any noises of approach. Still, the phone rang. Looking down at the screen, he saw only "Unknown". Sprinting over, he grabbed the phone, and answered.

"Kojuro! Good morning! I figured you have your hands full with the initiate, but you'll get some peace soon." Ieyasu's cheeriness triggered a grimace. "...Kojuro?"

"He's....inconvenienced."

An embarrassed laugh. "Well, good morning, Masamune! I wanted to speak to Kojuro, but since you've answered, this is probably better. Regrettably, I will not be able to accompany you, however, Shima Sakon, another newbie, has taken up the role. You two will be taking part in something else, so consider it an extended vacation! You're very lucky considering..."

"Considering what?"

"No matter. There will be a car to pick you up at 7. Work hard, cooperate, and you may be on your way to forging new--" Masamune hung up. It might have been because it was too early, but hearing Tokugawa go on about friendships like he wasn't completely insane was incredibly off-putting. At least he would go another day without seeing him.

"Who was that?"

The voice caused him to jump, Masamune almost dropping the phone. "Can you not do that?! You scared the shit out of me!"

Kojuro snatched the phone out of his hand, and scrolled through the recent calls. "I asked you a question."

"Tokugawa just said plans changed for me, that's all. He wanted to talk to you about that but I told him you were busy." 

"What plans?" Kojuro raised an eyebrow to Masamune's unfortunate outfit.

"What's it to you?" Masamune caught onto the judging look quickly. "And this was yours yanno. You're the fashion nightmare here, not me!"

Kojuro sighed, his stomach still giving him issues, and plopped on the couch, redialing the number. "Ieyasu? Next time you hear a voice that isn't me, don't talk to him, alright? ...Ah, I see, that's a relief then--...Hm? Are you sure...?" He leant over, pressing the speaker harder onto his ear, as if he needed to make sure that he wasn't going deaf or crazy. "I'll be over as soon as I can."

"What's up?" Kojuro was all over the place today, and Masamune seemed to be the one more concerned, rather than the other way around.

"What's it to you? You've got your orders, I've got mine." Kojuro fiddled with a phone a bit before tossing it to Masamune. "Don't throw this one down a shaft, alright?"

"You're joking!"

"There's nothing on there, so don't bother looking." Masamune quickly scrolled through folders, and nothing was left, not even the photo of farmer Kojuro. He nodded and slipped the phone into one of the many pockets.

The rest of the morning was largely uneventful, although both Masamune and Kojuro seemed to learn more and more about the other, without a single word. When the topic of breakfast was brought up again, Masamune took it upon himself to make something for the both of them. To Kojuro's surprise, it was actually pretty good. Kojuro was a bigger workaholic than the other thought, as he continued poring over the same papers from last night, all while eating or getting dressed.

At 7 a.m., they parted, Masamune getting into a dark sedan, and Kojuro driving away in his own coupe. The sun had finally begun to peek over the horizon.

Masamune was the first to arrive to the hideout, managing to catch even more uninterrupted shut-eye on the way there. Before he could make his way on his own, two large men came to his side, escorting him through a labyrinth more confusing than the Oda estate. It wasn't too long before he spotted the familiar decor that seemed like a blur weeks ago. They continued until they had reached a doorway of a different kind. There he met up with the weirdo with the two-toned hair from yesterday. 

"So, Mr. Date! I've been tasked with training you...since everyone else is busy." Sakon sounded a bit dejected, but it had more to do with the lack of action.

"Well you've already lost the battle against that outfit of yours, so I think I'll pass." Masamune scoffed and weaved past him, wondering what the real point of today was. However, Sakon remained at his heels.

"Ever handled a gun? A rocket launcher? A katana? Dais? Spears? Because if not, then you need my help! ...You don't really have a choice in this you know!"

"Says who?!" Yelled Masamune as he entered through the doorway.

Sakon sprinted and dived just before he slid the door closed, posing on the floor with a flourish. "Hideyoshi, for one. If you're gonna be working with us, you gotta know how to fight! And before you say anything, Mr. Katakura already told me you suck at fist fighting..."

"He's a goddamn liar." He wasn't a big fan of weapons, but he was proud of his ability to fight bare-handed, or he was, until he had his ass handed to him more than once.

"Pick your poison, Masamune!" Sakon jumped up, two dice between the gaps in his fingers. "Odds, you pick what you want, evens, I'll leave you alone, if you get snake eyes, however, you have to listen to me, no matter what!" Throwing the dice up in the air, he quickly snatched them into his palm and shook fiercely.

"I didn't even agree to anything--" Sakon placed a finger up, tossing up the dice. It bounced against the wall, and just barely missed the other's head. "You've got shit aim!"

The dice clattered against the floor. Two black dots peeked up in total. Snake eyes. "This is fucking rigged."

"A deal is a deal, Masamune!" Three more dice spawned between his fingers. "Now, for today, I will be your teacher...of sorts." He wrapped his arm around his shoulder, and ushered a frustrated Masamune into another doorway, one much bigger and darker than the others he'd seen.

The walls were lined with different weapons, ranging from bokkens, yaris, katanas and wakizashis, to pistols and rifles. All of them seemed no more than gently used.

"Since you are neither skilled, nor knowledgable in the art of fighting, we're going to start from the beginning." Sakon took a defensive stance, hopping from one foot to the other like a boxer. "Swing at me, Date. Is Kojuro a liar?"

"You're damn right he is." Masamune, for once, seemed very ready to beat the hell out of this unsuspecting sap. The stuff with Maeda was just practice, if a bit stomach churning. Masamune ran forward, and threw a right hook. Sakon grabbed his wrist, and with the momentum, slammed him onto the tatami. Healing bruises flared in pain, Masamune shrieked.

"This is going to be a long day..." Sakon grinned sheepishly.

After a few sparring attempts, Sakon seemed unimpressed with Masamune, and his sloppy style of hand to hand combat. Masamune seemed only more bruised, thanks to the effort.

He then moved on to bokkens, hoping that sword fighting was more his speed. Wood clashed against wood, but even with the other's speed, it still wouldn't serve him in a real fight. From there, they moved to more melee weapons, until Sakon was exhausted from watching Masamune fail again and again and again.

Throwing himself on the floor, drenched in sweat, Shima Sakon finally gave up. "I guess this wasn't a good idea after all..." Ieyasu had entrusted him with this, and he had a better chance teaching a rock to swim. 

Masamune, on the other hand, had no plans to give up, although he hoped he wouldn't have to deal with Shima much longer.

"You give up too easily." He picked up one of the discarded tachis. "This sword has some weird weight, no one in their right mind could wield this." He picked up one more, and held them both with a single hand. "You need two of these just to balance it out, and even then it feels terrible." Kicking up a third one, he adjusted his grip that they all extended forward. "What kind of shitty swords need someone to hold 3 of them just so they aren't glorified wooden sticks?" 

Sakon burst into a fit of laughter, the absurdity of wielding three tachis, of all things, at once was too much for him to bear. Jokingly, he issued a challenge. "I dare you to fight with those 3 at once." After such an exhausting, fruitless day, some comedy was nice.

Masamune scoffed, but beckoned him with his swords. "Bring it, Shima!" It was clumsy feeling, but he couldn't help but notice how cool it looked. 

Sakon flung more dice at him, and while one managed to strike him on the forehead, Masamune slashed just so the other two were cleanly sliced, falling to the floor noiselessly.

Masamune shook the impact off, and brandished his swords, running towards the other. He hopped up, bringing them down like a tiger would bring down his claws. Before he could even get close, however, Sakon struck him with a harsh kick to the midsection, cutting off his momentum, and causing him to crumple on the floor.

"Still sloppy, Masamune! There's one thing to have style, but you have no substance! Three swords may look flashy, but it's unwieldy, and you're still too open!"

"Well how about," He wheezed. "Some not-shitty weapons...!"

"Do you blame the tool, or the man who wields the tool? A man could have the sharpest sword, but if he cannot use it, he might as well use it as a kitchen knife, for all the good it'll do!" He was much less serious now, despite his attempt at a lecture.

Masamune juggled the three swords between his two hands, frustrated, he tossed them aside, going for two katanas instead. One on each hand didn't seem as awkward as wielding three tachis. He carved one against the other, silently beckoning for another clash.

This time, Sakon didn't have a chance. While one kept him open, two kept the other at bay. Every kick or punch was deflected from one blade, as the other went for the kill. Finally, Masamune looked less like a brute wielding two sticks, and more like an apprentice swordsman.

With a sweep, Sakon fell to the floor, the end of a blade pointed at his throat, his Adam's apple just barely missing the edge. With Mitsunari, it was standard, with a fired up Masamune, it was almost terrifying.

"A-alright...I think that's enough for today..."


	12. Smoke and Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young dragon gains his claws, while an old dragon can feel his dulling at the hands of his master.

It was strange not acting like a chauffeur for once. He'd never admit that, but company made the otherwise boring drives to work that much more interesting.

The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon. The highways were almost empty. Kojuro, to take his mind off of everything, pressed down on the gas. The roar of the engine felt better than the freshest cup of coffee. Zooming past the few on the road, he lowered the window, letting the morning chill fill his lungs. His hair began to loosen as the cold stung his face, strands falling on either temple. 

Even when a stationed police car came into view, he only slipped on his sunglasses and smashed the pedal down. The last thing he saw before he left the officer in the dust, was the poor fool fumbling with the speed radar. He couldn't help but smirk.

The drive was peaceful, quiet, and more importantly, fast. Before he had even realized, he had reached the port in record time. Pulling up by the water, he checked his clock. He had made it a half hour earlier than expected. 

As he pulled into one of the many empty spaces, he surveyed the surroundings. The nearby shops were in the middle of opening, as a few stragglers from the night before, drunks mostly, stumbled their way along the sidewalks. Some took refuge by storefronts, others decided to nap on the benches facing the sea.

Kojuro still had plenty of time before the meeting. He walked over to a nearby railing, the rising sun hiding behind thick clouds. Lighting a cigarette, he gazed into the distance, ships and boats drifting to and fro. He wondered how many drugs and weapons were stowed in those massive crates. He wondered how many of those were of the Toyotomi. 

Ashes fell into the deep blue. He looked down, and saw a fish try to nibble on them before speeding off. He scoffed. Even the most mundane was amusing to him, if only because pressing thoughts would be too much to bear. 

When he had called Ieyasu back, he thought it'd be more babysitting, maybe another shift at the pachinko places, or even some actual fighting. A meeting with the Boss himself, alone, that was the last thing he expected.

Each long drag pulled filled his lungs with much needed nicotine. It was his last pack, and the last cigarette. Gone before he could truly enjoy it, the cigarette was a stub, embers reaching its filter, and burning his fingertips. He flicked it into the brine, watching it float before it caught too much water, disappearing into the murky blue.

Just as the embers were snuffed out, he could feel more bile rise up in his throat. The dream.

"Kojuro." A deep voice rattled him, pulling him from the edge of dark thoughts.

Kojuro coughed, but otherwise maintained his cool, turning around to face the other. "Hideyoshi... to what do I owe this honor?" He smirked, dry lips peeling as the skin stretched.

"Sit." He beckoned to a nearby bench, and the other obliged, sitting at the far end. Hideyoshi was a brute of a man, in more ways than one, which meant normal seats were a bit too small for his stature. It was amusing, if not also a testament to his innate power. Even his own form could only barely contain the strength within.

"Soon, the Oda will strike, Nobunaga's delusion refuses to be grounded in reality." He spoke like a warrior poet, a peculiar habit picked up from god-knows-where.

"Understood, Hideyoshi..." He bit back the desire to ask a question.

"You may speak freely, but watch your tongue." An oxymoron.

"Hideyoshi...if there is no time to waste, why are you here, instead of going over plans with Hanbei?"

"Hanbei always asks for you, and you refuse him." Still he faced the sea, not even glancing over to Kojuro's side. "He suggests that your talents are of more importance elsewhere."

"But it is a waste. Of time, and resources. I would only be a third wheel, a yesman repeating what Takenaka already knew. He knows that. You know that." Just the mention of Hanbei brought the sickly sweet scent he exuded with every step he took. He doubt he could get a good meal in today.

"Hanbei disagrees. Though I normally need nothing more, you are to join us at our next meeting. I will not accept a refusal, unless you'd like to be punished severely for disobeying direct orders."

"Is this the only reason you dragged me out here? We have a base of operations specifically for this." His tongue was loosening, a usually masked annoyance becoming more transparent.

"You do yourself no favors with such insolence. There are eyes and ears even within our ranks, and to divulge information there would be suicide. You know just as well as I do." Kojuro sighed, knowing he'd get at the very least, a tongue lashing from one of the others. He could feel such a short conversation nearing its end already. "There is one more thing that is required of you." 

"You are to continue to keep an eye on Masamune. You are not to let him disobey orders any further, am I understood? If anything triggers the enemy before what is planned, I will make sure you hang your by your necks at the wreckage of Oda's estate."

More babysitting, more threats. "Understood, boss."

"Once everything is settled between us and the Oda, you and Masamune will be given an assignment. Until then, you do not act unless directed. You do not bark unless told, you do not bite unless told, you do not lay down and die until it is decided. Expect a call sooner rather than later. Hanbei grows restless." 

Despite the forced meeting, to him it sounded like a very roundabout way to give him some days off. 

Kojuro patted his pockets, hoping there was one more stick he forgot. With another sigh, he looked up, two large fingers holding an unlit cigar. Kojuro froze as it came into sight. Gently plucking it from his grasp, he bit into it, tasting such a rich flavor. He had never smoked this brand before, let alone such a cigar, but it was familiar to him. 

It was an uncharacteristically kind move, but he wasn't one to refuse. Pulling out a crumpled matchbook, he lit a limp match, and gave the cigar a few puffs. "Many thanks, boss."

Hideyoshi was already walking back to his car, not giving his subordinate a second glance. Kojuro looked ahead, though the reflection from the sunglasses's lens gave him a rear-view mirror so to speak.

Kojuro waited until Hideyoshi's car was out of sight, and when he was alone again, with one more puff, he grabbed the cigar and flung it into the sea. Still tasting the bold rich flavor, his body began to tremble. There was no way he could forget. His dream, his nightmare, was just a memory plucked from the wastebin of his mind. He was so close to letting it go, but with a single light, he remembered.

He remembered a single trail of smoke in the air. A few more following, until it was a billowing cloud above him. He remembered the hand on his shoulder, he remembered the silhouettes against the fire. Everything was trembling. His heart pounded in his chest. Hands tossed his glasses aside, and palms pressed into his eye sockets. While they were years old, he could feel needles prick the tattoos that covered his back, and arms. Dragons and streaks of color, while beautiful in their own right, were just a fancy nametag, a proof of ownership.

He had been so close to forgetting, so close to deluding himself. But it was not to be. No matter how many younger brothers in his command, no matter how many bodies he took and molded, no matter what Hanbei could ever say about him. He was property, he was owned, he was indebted.

Kojuro knew that he wouldn't be alive, biting back a building scream, if he too was kissed by the flames. He knew that it was all Hideyoshi's doing, he was the reason that he still lived. And yet...that wasn't the only thing he caused. There would never be any proof, and to even speak about it would be the same as drowning in his own vomit, but he knew. The fire happened too quickly, he was there too soon, there were shadows in the corners of his vision that seemed all too familiar. 

Looking up, a particularly brisk breeze bringing goosebumps to the surface, he saw the cigar still bobbing up and down, floating further and further away. His tongue still tasted the rich, earthiness of its tobacco. 

He could feel the shakes that combined with the trembling from his nightmares. It had been almost 3 weeks without a proper drink. That needed to change. 

Looking around at the stores, some already beginning to bustle, he noticed a small conviencence store. Taking out his wallet, he counted, and recounted, the bills. It was enough for at least a 6 pack. He figured they didn't sell anything else. Not optimal, but it would have to do. After picking up a pack of Sapporo, he walked back to his car, popping open a bottle with his teeth. 

"To a shitty day." He scoffed before finishing the bottle without a second breath. He slumped down beside the car, downing bottle after bottle with a miserable look on his face.

Six bottles wouldn't nearly be enough. He went back to the small shop and bought three more packs, throwing the remainder of his bills on the counter. The young cashier gave him a look of confusion, but he rung it up all the same, hesitantly giving him a smile as he left the shop.

The ride back was a blur, only interspersed with the sound of glass breaking, as he tossed finished bottles on the highway. The booze wouldn't be nearly enough to get him drunk, but it was a good start. Even as he weaved through the midday traffic, he could feel his senses dulling at the edges. 

Going back home was a good idea, but with no way to be reached, his safest bet would be to return to base. Keeping an eye on Masamune would at least offset the dread from the anticipated phone call, especially since he failed to mention that he'd be switching numbers very soon.

Back at base, in the massive training, a few slow loud claps could be heard from the far end, near the entrance. Sakon rolled over until he faced the source, his body aching from the roughhousing. Masamune only folded his arms as the figure came into view.

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!" Ieyasu clapped, his hands equipped with gauntlets that neither of them had ever seen before. "Such passion, such fire, that is exactly what we need! I'm impressed, Masamune!"

Masamune scoffed, glancing over at Sakon, who was drenched in sweat. "Your boy there doesn't seem to think so." He grabbed a discarded bokken and tapped him in the stomach with it. "Then again he's a lightweight. How can I train if I don't have a challenge?"

Sakon only rolled his eyes before hopping up, slicking back two-toned locks. "Mr. Date doesn't have so much finesse as the ability to win by attrition."

"I still won, didn't I?"

"I let you win." Sakon scoffed, tossing a few more dice in the air. Masamune wondered how he spawned those so quickly. 

"Well, if you want a challenge," Ieyasu put up his gauntlets, a grin as wide as the day was long on his face. "Then show me what you've learned, initiate!"

"You're joking." Masamune took a sidelong glance at all of the discarded weapons. The katana seemed like a good option, but he wasn't here to maim.

"You afraid, Masamune?" His playful tone was taunting more so than friendly.

Masamune held up the bokken and scoffed. "Fine, Tokugawa, if you wanna end up like your friend here...let's party!"

He sprinted forward, hopping up and bringing the wooden sword down. Ieyasu held both hands up, the wood splintering on impact, pieces flying everywhere. Masamune flew back, just barely landing on his feet. Stumbling back, he scanned the other weapons, and kicked up the katana, his plan B. He held it up and changed the approach, staying on the ground while darting forward. Ieyasu threw a jab, barely missing Masamune's midsection. Masamune brought the katana down against the extended arm, only managing to scrape him.

He at least drew blood. "Hah! I thought this was a challenge--" Bone collided against bone, steel bruising flesh on impact, Masamune flying with the weight of the hook, the katana flying out of his hands. Sakon yelled as he crashed into some wooden weapon racks, more splinters coming up and piercing through clothing and possibly flesh.

Ieyasu was still throwing jabs in the air, waiting for Masamune to get up. "Ieyasu, sir! I think he's seriously hurt!" Sakon ran over to check on the other, to his surprise, he could hear the beginnings of laughter. Soft chuckles burst into raucous laughter, like an absolute madman.

Masamune raised an arm, some pieces of wood sticking out of the t-shirt sleeve, and shoved him aside. "That...was child's play..." With the other hand, he shakily pushed himself up back on his feet. His backups were scattered all over the place, but with that, he had an idea. 

"I knew you had it in you! I'll give a free swing, just for sportsmanship's sake!" Ieyasu pointed at his jaw, a gleam in his eye. Even as he felt the prick of dozens of tiny splinters, Masamune had to admit...this was fun. He had fought before, sure, but every time, it was never a fair fight, or a winning fight, and every time he had gone against Kojuro, he ended up on the pavement. This time, it was different.

Masamune strode over, scooping up 3 swords with one hand. Their earlier session hadn't gone so well, the weight of each tachi too unwieldly to use alone, but combined, and despite the new pain going through his hands trying to acclimate, he felt something. It was strange, it was something he had never felt before, but with such a gloating face in front of him, and the swords in his hand, he felt something that couldn't be ignored.

He felt powerful.

"Masamune, didn't we just go over this?! Style over substance means you'll end up in a ditch!" Sakon yelled as Masamune continued his walk forward, looking ahead.

"Is this some new style? Show me how it works, Masamune-kun!" The mocking tone brought a grin to his face.

As he looked at the swords in his hands, Masamune could feel what Kojuro told him not too long ago. He was a thug, he was one of them, he wasn't a martyr or a saint, which meant he could spill blood like the best of them.

Masamune rushed him one more time, Ieyasu not making good on his promise by throwing a left hook. Masamune, with his free hand, took the brunt of it with his forearm, glancing it off. He could almost feel the bone cracking beneath bruising flesh. Still, with the other distracted, he brought his swords down against one of the gauntlets. The grip of his fingers caused the space between them to already begin yellowing, and the impact felt like his hand would turn into dust. The steel on both ends cracked, but as Ieyasu brought it back for another punch, steel clashed and clashed until the gauntlet broke into fragments.

Ieyasu was knocked back, and as he brought up his good hand, all three cracked blades blew hardened steel into shards, piercing them both, Ieyasu taking most of them to the chest and arms.

Ieyasu was the one to fall first, blood leaking from every open wound, his smile never faltering. Masamune fell soon afterward, each inhale like fire in his lungs. Blood was all he could taste, and all he could feel staining Kojuro's t-shirt.

"H-Hah...so much for a challenge..." Was the last thing he muttered before blacking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> masamune keeps getting owned but at least he's finally owning a nerd for once :> [also don't think i don't like ieyasu i love him dearly i swear...]


	13. Crack in the Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masamune's in recovery, confused, dazed, but no worse for wear. Kojuro meanwhile is gearing up for something bigger than himself.

When he regained consciousness, even before opening his eye, he could feel the sterility of the medical bay. He also felt a few others in his presence. Something cold touched his forehead, and he flinched, jerking back with his eye now wide open.

"You looked like you were having a nightmare, young one." A pale face hidden behind silver locks and a blue surgical mask. "With the damage you took, I can't say I blame you." He chuckled before continuing to dab a wet cloth on his forehead.

"Tenkai...?"

"Ah you remembered! I'm glad. With the way you've been treating yourself, we may see each other more often. Not that I mind!" He winked with a pleased hum.

"How long has it been...?" He wondered if it was bad enough for another coma.

"A few days, which is healing in record time if you ask me! It was amazing, the condition you two came in...I worked so hard to pluck out every little bit of steel and wood..." He made a gesture with some imaginary tweezers.

Masamune looked down slowly, and he could see his entire upper half covered in gauze. "All I remember was Tokugawa being a smug asshole...then everything went black."

"Well if you'd like, you can ask him what happened yourself!" Tenkai strode over to the partition, pulling back the screen. Behind it was Ieyasu gleefully chomped down on some food while Mitsunari and Sakon looked on, neither fazed by the display.

"Masamune! I'm glad to see you're awake! That was quite a sparring match. You sure gave me a run for my money with that new technique of yours. You'll have to tell me more about it sometime!" He at the very least had the manners not to speak as he ate. Tenkai went over and adjusted his bandages. From what he saw, they seemed to be in similar condition, with gauze all over his arms and chest.

"How it didn't kill either of you...well that's just a miracle isn't it?" He hummed, unwrapping and rewrapping bandages.

"My...style?" The more he tried to think about what happened, the more blurry his thoughts became. All he really remembered was something breaking, and then a lot of blood.

"You had a crazy idea to wield...three swords at once! In one hand even! Sakon had warned against it, saying you'd end up in a ditch somewhere but...it was amazing. The ferocity, the fire, the passion! Sakon must have done a better job than he admits to." Sakon, meanwhile, was trying to distract himself with the machines, their readings meaning absolutely nothing to him, but they meant everything if he didn't have to face anyone directly.

"Foolish. Your escape from death was a fluke, Date." Mitsunari spat, still looking over at Ieyasu.

Before he could give a smart-ass retort, a familiar voice came from the double doors. "I leave you alone for a day, and you end up right back here."

Masamune turned to look, and couldn't help but smile. "Took you long enough. Did you hear the news? I kicked Ieyasu's ass!" Ieyasu grinned sheepishly.

Kojuro walked over to Masamune, gripping the front of his gown, pulling him close. "You almost fuckin' died. Again. If anything happened to you, it would be on my ass, do you understand that?"

Despite his injuries, Masamune plucked away his fingers, loosening his grip, his face scrunching at the smell of alcohol. "You need a breath mint, man."

"Seems like the mutt has found one of his own." Mitsunari muttered from the other end of the room.

"Orders are orders, Ishida." Kojuro didn't dare take his gaze away from Masamune, who seemed to be sweating from the unwanted attention. "You of all people should know that."

"I know where my loyalties lie, do you?" Kojuro's nostrils flared, his stare going right though the other.

"Ishida...do you mind not sounding like you have that sword of yours shoved up your ass for once?" Masamune yelled, turning his head to face them, a slight relief from that powerful glare.

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cloud their views and thoughts with vitrol.

Tenkai looked down at his wristwatch. "Visiting hours are over for today! Please come back tomorrow if you'd like to speak with them further. These boys need their rest!" He ushered Mitsunari, Sakon, and Kojuro out through the double doors, despite their protests. Tenkai strode back inside, recounting his surgeries with glee.

In the waiting room, they stood there, looking in different directions, before Mitsunari spoke.

"Fourth day with alcohol on your breath, Katakura. Hideyoshi gives you orders, and you wallow in a bar until your pup gets hurt."

"For all the shit you talk, you can't even get your goddamn facts straight."

"Let me guess, you weren't at a bar, but at home. Innocent enough, but if you can't do babysitting, then what can you really do?"

Kojuro turned to him, his hand hovering over his holster. "Since you asked so nicely, I'll let you know where I've been. I've been here. I haven't fucking slept in the last few days because I've been here. The moment I got back here I saw Masamune on a stretcher. I watched them wheel him in, I watched them work on pulling every fragment of Ieyasu's steel out of his weak body." The alcohol was making him more honest than he'd like to admit. "Your idiot partner is the reason why this happened. Simple sparring between the initiates, and he tries to rough him up, just enough, so that Masamune's supposed to submit."

Mitsunari remained silent, his hand hovering over his sheathed sword.

"I'll admit...what Mr. Tokugawa did was pretty extreme." Sakon spoke this time. "Even after I told him that he was seriously injured, he took it as some sort of game." He took his place in the middle of the hall, between them. "But...there were no harsh feelings, Mr. Tokugawa said so himself when he woke up. He knew Masamune had it in him, it's why he did it!"

Kojuro looked over to the small windows on the double doors. As Tenkai undid his bandages, he saw most of the damage and couldn't help but smirk. Kojuro could admit, if only to himself, that for once, he underestimated Masamune.

It was strange having such gentle hands undo and redo his bandages, it was less strange that Tenkai was fawning over his own handiwork, stitches and all. As he scooted forward a little to get the ones around his midsection, he heard a familiar ringtone from the table on his left.

As soon as his bandage redressing was done, he snatched the phone and answered. "Yo."

"Katakura?" An unfamiliar, gentle voice came from the other end.

"Kojuro switched numbers, sorry to say. Uh, he's right outside if you want him--"

"Ah, Date. It seems you have recovered in record time, congratulations." Masamune pulled away the phone to look at the caller ID, but it only read as Unknown. "I want you to pass along a simple request to your partner. I would like for him to join us in the main room at his earliest convenience."

"Can I ask who's calling at least?" Before he could finish his question, the other line went silent. "Ok...weirdo."

Tenkai walked outside, speaking to Kojuro quickly before letting him back inside.

"Who called?"

"Oh hey, uh. Dunno. Said he wanted you to join them, whoever they are, in the main room as soon as possible." He noticed Kojuro's jaw clench as he relayed the information. "Listen, you need to get a new phone, or take your old one back, because I'm not getting paid to be your secretary alright-- hey where are you going?!"

Kojuro sped out of the room, rushing past the others to the nearest elevator. 

Mitsunari didn't move from his spot, looking away from everything else, but he spotted Kojuro in his peripheral. As soon as he was out of sight, his body tensed just before he let out a ragged sigh.

"Mr. Ishida?" Sakon strode over.

When he assumed the other was out of earshot, he finally spoke. "Do you remember what you told me?"

"Uh...I'm going to need some more context, sir! I've told you a great deal of things." Sakon joked, trying not to let the other's perpetual moodiness cloud him too.

"Right after Kotaro was delivered. You told me something else." He had done his best to ignore it, as he had plenty of duties to uphold, but with the two now growing closer, seemingly on friendly terms, he couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Katakura grooming Date, and going after Hanbei's position? How I wish it were only rumors." As they spoke, Kojuro was on his way to meet with them both, privately. He knew Hanbei's interest, but he didn't realize it was so serious.

"Hey, wait...yeah I heard those from some of the others, but who's to say for sure? You don't think he hurt Ieyasu like that on purpose do you?"

Mitsunari remained silent.

Finally, the elevator made it to his floor. Once Kojuro heard the ding, he let out a deep breath, searching his pockets. He pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes and a lighter. As the doors opened, he took a very long drag, waiting for the doors to close before exhaling. The ride was painfully short, just as the nub between his fingers felt as he stepped onto the main floor. All of his thoughts were focused on just getting there, as any lingering ones could cause him to shatter into the same pieces that pierced his partner's flesh.

As he reached the door to the main war room, he tapped what he though was the correct rhythm. The door didn't open. He sighed, pressing a palm into his eye before giving himself a firm smack on the cheek. Again he tried the strange rhythm, this time the door opened very slightly. Placing one hand on the door, he took a deep breath, tasting only the cigarette in his mouth.

"Ah, I'm glad you could join us, Katakura." The sickly sweet smell flooded his nose as he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"I apologize for not joining you sooner." He knelt by the two figures, keeping his distance. "I have been so busy with the initiates...and Masamune in particular."

"So I've heard. However, he continues to surprise, doesn't he? First the thievery, then his assistance with Kotaro, and now he's put one of our best in the bay." Kojuro kept his eyes to the carpet, hoping that he wouldn't need to do anything but exist at that very moment. "You should be commended in your work in guiding him."

"Rise." Hideyoshi spoke, his voice causing a vibration throughout his very core. Kojuro did as he was told, bringing himself back onto his feet. "As we've discussed, there is a reason you have been invited here tonight." A large hand gestured to a spot before them. A map so large was spread out on the table that its corners were off the edge of the wood. Kojuro quickly scanned it as he made his way to the designated spot, immediately recognizing familiar locations, bases, flags, and emblems.

"Although Hideyoshi has maintained such peace for quite a while, it seems that the Oda threaten us. Normally, we wouldn't even consider such a possibility, but the proof is there." The black folder was nearby. Kojuro took a look through the pages inside, photos, forms, reports, all of them pointing to one thing.

"Does the Oda know that we have this information?" He could feel the alcohol and what little he subsisted on swirl in his stomach.

"Naturally. As we speak, they're collecting information on us. However, that is par for the course. What we need now, is to plan. Which is why we've asked for your presence, Katakura." Hanbei smiled, glossy purple lips curling deviously in the dim light. "You can offer insight where I may falter. Look at this," He gestured towards the large map, small figures dotting its surface. "Do you see any issues?"

He saw little soldiers with the Toyotomi crest crossing over the roads that lead to the Oda estate. A pincer attack. "He would never fall for it." Kojuro mumbled to himself.

"Then what do you suggest?" Kojuro tensed up realizing that he had spoken aloud.

"We need more intel, a recon mission with a small team is suggested. I don't know how old those photos are, but we need as many updates as possible. Has a mole been placed anywhere near the estate or any of the facilities?" 

The corners of his vision began to blur, as he placed all of his attention on the map. "If not, then it may already be too late. Instead, there will need to be a team reporting every hour on the hour. I hope you aren't planning to attack any time soon, as we may be able to patch things up before they get worse."

As Kojuro reached over to adjust the little figures, Hideyoshi and Hanbei traded glances. For all of the humility Kojuro tried to display, they knew he felt right at home, in front of dozens of tiny soldiers, leading them to victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm posting this in class so sorry for any mistakes.... :^)


	14. First Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oichi is tasked with heading a family meeting. It's a lamb's first foray into the slaughterhouse.

Her hands nervously played with the hem of her blouse. She sat at the head of an impossibly long table, surrounded by men older and wiser than her. 

Although she was Oda Nobunaga's younger sister, Oichi didn't feel like she was fit for leading such a powerful family, even if it was for a single night.

Normally, she would run around, serving drinks and food to the other men, disappearing during the bulk of the meetings until called. The rest of the time would be spent in her room, or on her balcony, stargazing or looking at the city's skyline with ceaseless wonder. 

Tonight, however, was different, as her brother had gone away for a few days. It was business as always, but now she was forced to oversee one of the biweekly meetings the family had. Even if it were only updates, she felt the heavy burden of responsibility. As the silence came over the table, she could feel herself suffocating.

"Mistress Oichi, would you like to begin?" The man sitting closest to her, an ancient-looking man of 85, smiled, the lines in his face growing deeper.

"Ah, yes." She had practicing what she would say and how she would act for the longest, but when the moment came, she was nothing short of dumbstruck. 

The man reached over and placed a hand out. Oichi took the hand that fiddled with her blouse and took his. Still it took longer than she wanted for the words to find her. "I...I am glad you could all come tonight." The men nodded in succession, giving her a bit more confidence. "A-as you may know, my dearest brother...he could not make it. He, uh, however is working very hard..." Her voice began to trail off.

There was a smattering of coughs and throats being cleared. 

"So, uh, I will be...taking over, only for tonight...so please! Do not worry...I will try my best to, uh..." She lost her place again. The faces, some familiar, some not, all stone faced, looked increasingly impatient, at least to her. She pulled her hands away, balling them into fists as they hid underneath the table. "I'm...I'm sorry..." Her breathing grew ragged as she looked away from the sea of faces. The lights of the room were growing brighter, and even with the windows open, she could only feel herself growing hotter. At any moment, she could felt as if her frame would collapse.

"As Mistress Oichi was going to say, she will be overseeing tonight's meeting. Master Nobunaga is away, but give your attention and respect to her as you would to him." The old man spoke quietly, but every ear in the room heard and understood his words, gentle but laced with an air of intimidation.

It wasn't until he spoke, that she realized her nails were digging painfully hard into her palms. Dark hair covered her face as she looked down to see crescent shaped marks beginning to bleed.

When she looked back up, another man was speaking about their success in dominating the black market with a more addictive version of a drug she had never heard of. What little she had in her stomach began to swirl. The man continued, going in depth about how popular the drug was at underground clubs, and how it was even beginning to affect those within rival gangs.

Normally, she would only catch words here and there as other meetings went on, as she was too focused on her tasks at hand. Hearing the joy in that man's voice as he spoke of creating supply chains to keep those addicted and happy, while making a threefold increase in profit, it scared her. The men around her remained emotionless, with only a few nodding their heads. The man who was speaking looked over to Oichi with sparkling eyes, proud of his report. She could only give a feeble smile in return. He scared her.

All of this scared her. 

Fingernails fit right into place with the existing marks, small specks of blood beginning to stain the very tip. The old man kept an eye on her, but didn't move to reassure her again.

One after the other, the men discussed and reported their profits from gambling, their run-ins with members of rival organizations, the poor souls whose lives were snuffed out by a single whim, and all she could do was sit there and nod.

Women she had never seen before came around with teapots and cups, passing them around and pouring green and black tea. The youngest of the women poured the largest cup for Oichi, placing it down without a second glance. Oichi wanted to say something to her, even if it was a thank you. Before she could, the room fell silent, a dozen pair of eyes staring back at her.

"Mistress Oda?"

In her haste, she touched the bottom of the cup, the ceramic already too hot to the touch. Shaking hands dropped the cup, and green tea spilled all over, steam rising from the table's surface. Pale hands were already beginning to redden as tears filled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll clean this up...!" The men remained seated, as the women from before scrambled to clean up the mess. "I'm sorry..." She whispered to the closest one, who was dabbing the wet spots on her blouse.

The men continued to look at the display until the women were satisfied with their handiwork, and left in a single line.

The old man next to her smiled, and cleared his throat. "It seems tonight has been the liveliest so far..."

It seemed like the meeting was going to adjourn, much to her relief.

"However, there is still one more thing we need to discuss." The old man's features darkened. "The Toyotomi."

The men finally broke from their emotionless facades, faces warping into ones of pure hatred, teeth bared, mouths twisting, all of them trying to speak over the other. Another man raised his hand, signalling silence. It took a few minutes until the men returned to their normal states.

"...as for the matter of the Toyotomi...it seems they have caught onto our plans." The mood continued to shift, and it was if the lights themselves dimmed to match. "We have been interrogating our own to find the mole, however, we have been unable to locate the traitor. Regardless, we will not allow such a misstep to interfere."

"It seems that they have gained a considerable amount of new blood in such a short time."

"If all they have to show for themselves is a handful of recruits, then they should surrender now, and avoid a devastating loss."

The name was familiar. She remembered the three men who had come under that banner. The two older men had always come around to speak with her brother, but the third was brand new.

She remembered him, the boy who ran away. He was reckless. He spoke without a care in the world. He was kind. He got away with what lesser men would have died for. She remembered guiding him out, to freedom. She wished she could have ran away with him. She wondered if they had ever caught him. She wondered if he was still alive.

"According to one of our contacts within, it seems they aren't going to back down anytime soon. Apparently, Hideyoshi picked up another strategist." 

"The old man is desperate. He knows his days are numbered." That earned a few chuckles from the men. "I say we take them out now, save ourselves the effort. We already outmatch them, in manpower and weaponry, so why not put them out of their misery? The sooner, the better, I say." The group nodded in agreement. 

They looked at her again, hoping for her approval. Her blood ran cold. Her hands continued to fumble with her drying blouse. She wished she hadn't spilled her tea.

"I....I...." Tears threatened to spill. "My...my brother...I'm sure he would like to...speak about this more. B-before we resort to v-violence..." The stars in so many of their eyes were extinguished, replaced with a frustration that was all too familiar to her. "Th-this isn't m-my place t-to speak h-however..." To stutter was all she could do to keep the sobs from escaping.

"I think what Mistress Oichi means," The old man turned to face her, his hands folded on the table. "Is that to resort to such crass tactics is beneath us, and to do so without the explicit permission of Master Oda, is the same as any treachery." His eyes were closed, his mouth smiled, but she knew beneath those lids were eyes just as chastising as the others.

"Y-yes...exactly..." She cleared her throat, her skin prickling at the feeling of cold wet fabric. There was still a sob stuck in her throat, but she did her best to swallow it down. "M-my brother...he has plans for the Toyotomi as well...and I'm sure they mirror yours...b-but...p-please! W-wait for his return...he w-will guide us to...victory."

The room fell silent. The faces, which had held malice for the Toyotomi, and to some extent, her, returned to their statue-like forms. Oichi was suffocating in the silence.

A voice from the back spoke, startling her. "She's right! What good would it do us to rush into the enemy's arms? To have Master Oda come back to a devastating loss would tarnish the family name, and disgrace us all." The men looked to each other and nodded. The lump in her throat grew smaller.

"T-the destruction of the Toyotomi...i-is at hand...s-so please, just wait." Her voice grew lower and lower as she spoke. She tried her best to smile reassuringly, but it came out as feeble as ever.

The man who spoke offered polite applause, the effect causing all of the men seated to clap as well. It was neither genuine, nor mocking, and she knew it'd be the most positive reaction she'd get.

The men began to rise from their seats, all bowing as the passed by Oichi, a gesture of respect that was tarnished as they paid her no mind after that. The ancient man was the last to leave, bowing like the others, but before he left, he extended a hand. She shook it quickly, her hand retreating to her side.

"You did well for your first time, Mistress. I'm sure your brother would be proud of you."

The only pride her brother felt was when he ripped off an enemy's head, she thought. "Thank you..."

As the man left, the door closing behind him, Oichi began sobbing, balled up fists pressed against her forehead. Tears mixed with mascara trailed down, washing away some of the powder on her cheeks. Her mouth warped, dark lips being pulled back. She cried, and cried, the crescent marks opening up again, the muscles in her face growing sore, darkened tears staining her blouse.

She knew what her brother did. She knew what he dealt with on a daily basis. However, it was one thing to know, and it was another to experience what he experienced, even if it was only for a night. Oichi cried, and cried. She cried for those poor souls under her brother's spell, she cried for the men who had lost their lives on either side, she cried for the Toyotomi, she cried for the rash, kind man she had seen only once. 

Oichi cried because that's all she could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love oichi why do i make her suffer.... :___;


	15. A Morning with El Diablo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Oda and the Toyotomi meet again. Masamune knows prophecies aren't real. The only things that are real: the blood staining the beautiful plush, and the tears staining powered cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I know I haven't updated in two months ; 3; School has been super busy as it's my last semester, but I'm on break now so I hope this is apology enough!!
> 
> Also a little bit of an eye horror warning, it isn't particularly graphic but a heads-up is always good, non?

Masamune, despite his body aching from being stuck in bed all day, returned to sleep. Despite the beeping of machines, and Ieyasu's intermittent snoring, it wasn't long until he dreamed.

At first, he could only see a vast emptiness, white and nothing but it, stretching into forever. He took a few steps forward, his steps like drops striking water's surface. Except for his breathing, it was silent.

He heard a shriek from behind him, and when he turned around, he could see a vague shape in the distance. Masamune ran, his feet pounding against the emptiness, but no matter how fast he ran, the shape wasn't any closer. He heard another shriek, piercing his ears, hands clamping over instinctively.

When he looked up, he was just in time to see the shape explode in a bright light. A swarm of black winged beings burst out, the mass flying towards him. This time, he tried to run away, but no matter how long, or how far, they gained on him, a few already beginning to land on his back. The more that landed on him, the more he could feel their legs, like red hot needles piercing into his flesh.

Masamune flailed and threw himself, but despite being able to stand on the nothingness, nothing would smother every needle that pierced him. They acted like moths, eating away his clothes until nothing remained but his flesh, littered in small red spots, drops of blood leaking from open wounds. They crowded around his sewn up eye, somehow undoing what years of healing sealed. Terrified, from his peripheral, he could see the familiar markings of a butterfly. Finally, with healed flesh eaten away, the dead eyelid rose up, an empty void revealed, just as they swarmed the largest of his wounds.

Masamune screamed as the butterflies filled his eye socket. He screamed and screamed until he sounded like the shriek that brought them to life.

The swarm stopped moving for a moment, before they all congealed, a black mass forming on his right arm. The skin was black until, like ink in water, it diluted, except for a black stripe curling around his bicep, all the way down to his wrist. 

In the empty eye socket, he could feel something moving, and soon something spilling, out. As he reached out to clutch it, the spilling ceased, and instead, he felt something soft, something curling out and over. He felt something familiar.

Though he couldn't see it, he knew exactly what it was.

Flowers bloomed from his eye. Dozens of tiny buds split open, all of them as black as the butterflies.

As he moved and shifted into consciousness, he no longer felt the stiffness of his med bay bed, nor did he feel Tenkai hovering over him, quietly fawning over his handiwork. Instead, he felt a fresh, cool breeze.

Rather than waking up from an impatient visitor, or his own nightmare, Masamune instead woke to the sound of the shower running. The sun had already rose. He could feel a headache beginning to form.

Checking his clock, he realized that he had woken up too late to get a nap in, and instead, gingerly sat up. Plucking off the post-op patch, he reached over to his right eye, fingers grazing over the sewn up lid. He let out a shaky sigh of relief, and threw himself back on the couch. When he shut his eye, he could feel the other pulsating, and knew he couldn't stay there. Sliding off the couch, he shot up from the floor, still feeling the soreness of his injuries as he hobbled over to the kitchen.

To his delight, he was greeted with a fresh pot of coffee.

Slowly searching through the cupboards, he managed to scrounge up a few packets of sugar. They were covered in dust, which meant they were older than they had any right to be, but the alternative was not worth it. 

Sitting down, he poured some coffee into a black mug. Masamune never put milk in his coffee, but he would be damned if he ever drank it black. Shaking the packets away from him, he cleared the bit of dust that clung on. 

Dumping the sugar in, he wondered if Kojuro drank it black. The bitterness matched his personality up until this point, he laughed to himself, it was only appropriate. Ice cold showers and biting coffee seemed right up his alley.

Every so often, as he took quick sips, he would reach over to his eye, the pads of his fingers pressing gently against the lid. He knew there was nothing there, not anymore, but still he made sure. Sewed up skin fused together long ago, but there were still scars of sickness around it, raised bumps covered by patches and brown strands.

Thankfully, the sugar was still good, a nice kick of sweetness alongside the richness of the beans. 

Kojuro stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping onto the kitchen tile. "For once I didn't have to wake you..." He walked over and grabbed a mug, filling it to the brim. Masamune looked up, ready for a witty retort, when his throat clenched up.

On Kojuro's right arm, from the bicep to the middle of his forearm, was a black dragon, its fangs bared, and its eyes bright against his tan skin. He had only just gotten over the grogginess of his nightmare, but to have it come back caused him to shake.

Kojuro froze for a moment before looking over, noticing the look of terror on Masamune's face. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

He shook his head, palms pressing into his sockets. "You got any aspirin? My head's killing me." The headache was coming on a lot sooner than he wanted. 

Kojuro took his mug away, downing the rest of his coffee, and filled a cup with cold water. "No more, it's giving you the shakes."

Masamune jerked at the sensation of stray drops hitting him, looked up to see the cup and a couple of pills on the table. "It's not the coffee..." Kojuro was already gone.

He knew it would take a while for the asprin to kick in, so he trudged his way back to the couch, hoping Kojuro would have the slightest bit of sympathy.

"What did I say about the couch?" Kojuro was already sitting down, dressed in a white button up, and black slacks. He could still see the dragon past the fabric, but it was much more muted, to his relief.

"Cut me some slack. I'm still injured for fuck's sake." He raised up his shirt to reveal the bandages, and threw himself on the couch next to him.

"Who's fault was that?"

"Ieyasu's." He slumped over against the armrest.

"No sleeping on the couch. Besides, we're leaving in an hour, so I suggest you get ready." Masamune could hear the click of a lighter.

"What? I'm in no condition to fight, you know that. I don't even know why Tenkai let me go..." With all that happened, he hadn't even realized that he was let go. He looked down his shirt, at the bandages. They were clean. He had a shirt on, and pants, and boxers. "Who dressed me?"

Kojuro didn't answer. "We're going over to the Oda estate. I suggest you be on your best behavior. And don't think about running away again, because I'll make sure you end up as an organ donor if you do." Smoke billowed over and caused him to cough.

"What for?" He waved the smoke away, sliding away from him onto the floor. "From what I've heard, we're not on super great terms with them anyway."

"Nobunaga's out on some business, so his sister's taking over in the meantime."

Masamune perked up at the mention of Oda's sister. "You serious?"

"I assume you two have been acquainted?' Kojuro snuffed out his cigarette on a nearby ashtray.

"Not in so many words but..." He remembered how nervous she was, but also how she was able to guide him out of the labyrinth. He could still hear her gentle voice, almost like a whisper, moving his legs until he could breathe fresh air. "Don't worry, I won't run."

"Finally making my job a little easier, huh?" He laughed, and Masamune couldn't help but grin.

After a shower, and some hiccups in redressing his wounds, Masamune and Kojuro stepped out into the morning sun. Masamune, forgoing his medical patch, wore a pair of borrowed sunglasses instead. Kojuro told him it would be strange wearing them indoors, but he refused to wear anything else.

As Masamune slid into the passenger's seat, Kojuro went over to the trunk. Masamune was busy admiring himself in the rear view mirror when he felt something heavy crash onto his lap.

"Did you forget I was still--?!"

"Quit your bitching, you've been through worse." Kojuro snorted as he slide back onto the driver's seat.

Looking down, he saw that it was a shiny aluminum attache case. Reaching for the clasps, his hands were slapped away. Masamune in turn took the suitcase and flung it onto the backseat, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Are you insane?!"

Masamune slowly turned to look at him, dark lenses adding an intimidating air to an already pissed off countenance. "You fling a fuckin' pack of bricks on me, and expect me to just deal with it?"

"You're lucky that's been wrapped to hell in bubble wrap." Kojuro looked forward, turning the key in the ignition, and easing his foot on the gas. He was the first to back down.

"You mean /you're/ lucky." He looked towards the window, catching his reflection in the side mirror. His jaw clenched, black sunglasses betraying nothing, he looked powerful. Even he felt the weakest he had ever been.

When the tension settled to a more palpable level, Masamune cleared his throat, gesturing to the case. "So...what's in there anyway?"

"A peace offering."

"So we're surrendering? And here I thought you guys were gangsters, not cowards." Masamune sneered.

"I know you like to run in and get the shit kicked out of you, but normal people would rather not lose valuable resources for some shithead's sense of pride." Masamune's injuries pulsated as he spoke, as if each word bruised him anew.

"If Old man Oda's on vacation, then what the fuck is stopping us from taking what he's got?" He began to recognize the long stretch of road, the pavement his feet pounded against until he collapsed those months ago.

"I'll let you go first then. If you don't end up full of holes then we'll go with your plan." Kojuro sighed, knowing that Masamune was putting up another act. He noticed that he would always flip flop between suicidal and having a legitimate survival instinct.

"...What, I don't get back up?" It was worrying.

"How about this? You keep your mouth shut the whole time we're there, and I'll make sure you don't end up permanently in a hospital bed." Or a casket, he thought bitterly. Kojuro knew of 5 year olds that behaved better than Masamune.

Surprisingly, there was no witty retort. Instead, he rolled the window down, stuck his arm out the window, and leaned on it. 

Soon, the massive Oda estate came into view. Masamune shuddered as he saw the structure. He knew he'd have to maneuver the scarlet labyrinth within it, but at the very least, Nobunaga wouldn't be biting at his heels. Maybe he could finally get that free lunch he was owed too. Those sandwiches looked really good.

Rather than drive up to the front gate and trek the entirety of the trail inside, Kojuro drove as close to the front door as close as he could, the gates locking tight behind them. 

Strolling up to the door first, Masamune slicked back his hair and quickly checked his breath. He hoped the coffee wouldn't be so off-putting. Before he could press the bell, the door slowly opened up, a familiar face peeking through the ever-growing space. As their eyes met, Oichi flinched, which caused Masamune to back up apologetically. Internally, he was relieved and thankful for the sunglasses.

Kojuro was confused by the display, and ended it quickly by placing himself between them. "Good morning, Ms. Oda."

Finally, the door swung completely open. "G-good morning, Mr. Katakura. Good morning, Mr..."

Masamune gave an uneasy smile, tilting himself back into her sights. "Masamune's fine--" He felt a rough hand clasp his neck, and bring him over to Kojuro's side. The other squeezed tightly, the pads of his fingers threatening to form red marks. From her perspective, it looked like just a friendly gesture. "Mr. Date's also good too." He floundered a little, freeing himself from Kojuro's iron grip.

Oichi nodded and ushered them inside. She was wearing a simple but elegant dress in eggshell white, with a high collar, and a necklace that held a dark purple gemstone. It was a stark contrast to the black blazers and slacks both of them wore. It looked like a uniform almost, though one had a navy while the other was a starched white button up.

As they walked inside, Oichi took a quiet but deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She closed the door noiselessly and glanced over to the reckless man who ran away. He seemed no worse for wear, to her relief. And she had finally learned his name.

"I apologize for my brother's absence." She stepped forward and walked towards the doors leading to the set of halls. "He has been extremely busy as of late with an overseas venture, and unfortunately he will not be back for another couple of days." It pained her to lie, but she would always do what she was told, for her brother's sake.

"Please send him our regards." Kojuro followed her without missing a step, Masamune still not used to the twists and turns of scarlet tunnels. "And please send him our apologies for Mr. Date's rudeness the last time."

If he only knew, she thought sadly. "As long as he received a suitable punishment," She apologized to Mr. Date mentally. "that is apology enough." Masamune, rejoining them after almost getting lost, deflated a little when he heard her speak so coldly.

Kojuro wasn't stupid. He knew something was going on between them, even if they didn't realize it themselves.

Finally, they made it to the large double doors of the main hall. As heavy as they looked, Oichi opened them effortlessly. "Please have a seat. I will return momentarily with refreshments."

Masamune wanted to say something, but for once he kept his mouth shut, at least until she was out of earshot. Kneeling down on the plush carpet, the same spot as before, he gave Kojuro a shove. "Rudeness? Really?!"

"I thought Ishida was joking, but for once he was on the mark. You got a thing for Ms. Oda?" Kojuro turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"Oh my god, not you too." Masamune raised the sunglasses, pressing his palms against his sockets, trying to push back his embarrassment and another headache. "She's nice okay. When you're dragged by your fucking balls into a mob boss's house, kindness ain't easy to come by."

"You like her because she's nice to you? What is this, grade school?" Kojuro laughed, shaking his head.

"She's probably the reason her brother didn't gut me right then and there. Got me out safe and sound. Don't know how she did it, but...damn can't a guy be grateful?" He wanted to nip this misunderstanding in the bud before it got any worse.

"For your sake, I hope you're telling the truth. The last thing Nobunaga needs is to see your ugly mug all over his kid sister. That's why..." Kojuro lowered his voice. "we waited until he was out of the prefecture. He's not overseas, he's still on the islands, just not here." Kojuro could feel Oichi's presence, even before she was in sight. Leaning forward, he placed the attache case on the desk.

She placed the cups and plates beside the case, the polished steel of the tray outshining the aluminum. Gingerly, she poured fresh black tea, placing two spoonfuls of sugar into her own. As she did that, Kojuro undid the clasps of the case and carefully opened it.

"Though your brother isn't here to receive this, we hope this is enough to secure our agreement." He turned it around to reveal two engraved pistols, one wheellock, and the other flintlock. Oichi almost spilled her tea as she saw them. She was torn by their beauty alongside their original purpose, to kill. "We know that Mr. Oda had been looking for these for quite some time."

With a trembling hand, she closed the case, to the dismay of Masamune, who just missed the sight, and gave them both the most genuine smile she could muster. "This is more than enough, I assure you. On behalf of the Oda, I thank you. I'm sure that my brother will be elated to receive these." 

Masamune scooted up closer, plucking the small cup from the saucer. It was still a bit hot, but after a few sips, he comfortably gulped it down. Just as he moved to place it back down, he saw something past the tea leaves that stuck to the bottom. Moving the wet leaves away with a finger, he revealed what was painted at the cup's bottom. Suddenly, he felt his right eye twitch, a harsh, burning pain spread like a rash all across his skull. With a harsh hiss, he moved both hands to clasp at the dead flesh.

In that moment, he realized he made a mistake. Before he could catch it, the porcelain struck against the wooden table and cracked loudly, wet pieces falling to the carpet.

"Fuck, fuck...I'm so sorry! I'll clean it up--!" Kojuro looked at him wide eyed, his jaw clenched.

"No!" She yelled, a pained scream as the tea began to bleed into the carpet. "N-no! I-it's fine...! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Oichi scrambled over, slender hands working to scoop up the shards, while another worked with a napkin, dabbing away as much as she could.

Gently, Kojuro moved her hands away, taking the napkin, and worked on cleaning up himself. "Please, it's fine. We'll make sure to reimburse you, and we'll make sure this doesn't happen again."

"You don't understand...!" She whispered.

The doors behind them opened, and a cool breeze came from the other side. As they all turned around to face the source, they felt themselves freeze in place.

"What is this?!" Oda Nobunaga boomed, his voice causing the nearby trinkets to rattle. Oichi's frame trembled at the very sound.

"B-brother!" She sputtered out, rising to her feet and moving to greet him. "Th-they were just leaving, please you must be so--" Nobunaga placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, pushing her aside. It wasn't by any means rough, but it was enough to rattle her.

Nobunaga looked down at the white shards stark against the plush red carpet. His face was quickly growing as red as the halls behind him. Quickly, he reached for his holster and pulled out a gun not unlike the many replicas that littered the main hall.

Masamune couldn't stay silent. "Hey, there's no need to get rough here! Ms. Oda's right, we were just leaving. There's no need to be so rough--" Kojuro put a hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to stop while he was very far behind.

The gun moved back and forth between the two.

"Insolent dogs! I've grown tired of playing nice with the Toyotomi. They have caused me nothing but trouble, they have done nothing but drain me!" He looked over at Masamune, an ornate barrel pointed right between his eyes. "I should have killed you when I had the chance!"

Oichi threw herself between them, still clutching shards in her hand. Nobunaga looked down at his sister with complete apathy, and moved forward, stepping over her to close the distance. She was not worth his time now, but he would remember her disloyalty later.

With the momentary change in focus, Kojuro quickly, but quietly, reached into the attache case and pulled out one of the would-be gifts. He had no idea if it was even in working condition, let alone loaded. But now would be as good a time as any. 

"Listen..." Kojuro spoke slowly. "I don't know what happened, but we're not here to fight. We came to make amends, lest this get out of control any further." 

"Toyotomi didn't train you at all did he?" His finger moved to push the trigger.

Kojuro grabbed Masamune by the collar and ran towards the nearest cover, just as Nobunaga fired off a shot at close range.

"What the fuck? Fuck, fuck!" Masamune screamed as his mind returned to reality. "Why the fuck is he--"

"I'll wring you two by your necks!" Nobunaga growled, firing off another shot. It struck the top of the plush chair that they fell behind, wood splitting on impact.

"Keep your mouth shut and follow me!" Kojuro took a look at the gun he managed to pluck out, the wheellock, and sighed. "It's got one shot."

Oichi trembled violently, the ringing in her ears ceaseless as the blood rushing to her brain. Her brother stood before her, paying her little mind. With a rush of adrenaline, she could do little more than scurry away, ducking behind one of the display cases.

There was a moment of silence.

Kojuro mentally counted to three and peeked his head out. Nobunaga was gearing up for another shot. Popping out of cover, Kojuro fired to left of Nobunaga, hitting another glass case nearby, littering the space with shards of glass.

Just as Kojuro was moving to the next bit of cover, Nobunaga fired his second shot, wood, glass, and stuffing flying in the air. He let out a hiss, feeling a searing feeling in his shoulder.

"Kojuro!" Masamune yeled, seeing the blood flecks splatter nearby.

"It's just a scratch!" It was, but it was still enough to draw blood and burn flesh through cloth. Masamune, despite everything screaming otherwise, dove over to where the other was sitting. With a closer look, he could see blood beginning to pool beneath the skin.

"How the fuck are we getting out of here?!"

"Relax!" Kojuro had no idea. Not with an old gun-wielding maniac blocking the only exit.

Another moment of silence. 

Quickly running out of options, Masamune snatched the gun from Kojuro. Before he could protest, Masamune pulled the other up, hopped over their cover, and with the added momentum, he flung the gun right at Nobunaga's head. The crunch of cartilage was audible, and it was enough to cause the old man to lose his balance.

Masamune didn't stop there, as his body wouldn't let him. With a roll, he vaulted over his body, and ran past the double doors. Kojuro was momentarily stunned by the whole thing, but wasn't too far behind, just barely dodging the hands grasping for his ankles. Masamune was running for a dead end when Kojuro caught up.

Neither man slowed down, as Kojuro grabbed the back of his collar and flung Masamune in the right direction.

Meanwhile, Nobunaga was stumbling back onto his feet. He let out an ear-shattering roar, so loud and harsh, its echo traveled down the halls, and the force alone caused Oichi to fall from her hiding spot. She could hear the crack of bone again, as her brother adjusted his nose, the blood flow slowly dying out. She tried to meet his gaze, but she was too scared.

Too much had happened too quickly, and now there was nothing left. She would be punished, and her brother would never trust her again.

No matter what, he knew it would be a losing fight now. Those mongrels would be long gone by now, if they managed to get out. Tossing his emptied gun aside, he hobbled over to the crumpled frame of his sister.

She flinched, as if he were about to strike, but he never did. Instead, Nobunaga kneeled down, a firm hand gripping her chin. "And what is that? Another present from our guests?"

Oichi opened her palm, presenting the shard. Tears of sweat and blood struck the black butterfly painted on the porcelain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4k words is bretty good and I hope y'all enjoy ;w; comments + kudos appreciated <3


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